Simple as This
by bicyclesarecool
Summary: Bella Swan is just trying to get through her senior year, she doesn't want to talk about her absent mother or the amount of art books on her bookshelf. Especially not to Edward Cullen. Sometimes things aren't as complicated as they seem. A story of lost and found. exb, ah, ooc.
1. Chapter 1

_I've been falling, crashing, breaking  
All the while you were stood here waiting  
For me girl_

_Tried liberation of my own free will_  
_But it left me looking to get higher still._  
_Oh and the answer well who would have guessed_  
_Could be something as simple as this_  
_God knows how I could have missed_  
_Something as simple as this._

-Jake Bugg 

* * *

**PART ONE**

"Do you need a bag?"

"Oh, no thank you," I mutter as the man behind the counter prints my receipt.

"Planning a trip?" he asks, sliding my pile of books towards me. He lightly touches the cover of a book about art in Paris as he draws his hand back.

"Sort of," I lie, taking my books out to the car. My best friend, Alice, is leaning against the trunk of her yellow Prius, talking on her phone. She's just under five feet tall, but her legs are long and thin, tanned from a week-long vacation to California she took earlier this summer. A breeze comes by at that moment, lifting pieces of her short, dark hair off of her forehead, the pink tips catching in the light. She had a lotus flower drawn on her bicep in Sharpie and frayed shorts on her narrow hips. Alice waves to me as I approach and ends her phone conversation.

"How is Susan?" I ask politely, sliding up next to her.

"Susan is being completely annoying as usual," Alice sighs. Susan is her mother, and means well but can be a little overbearing. She's currently trying to organize Alice's senior pictures for the upcoming year as well as micromanage Alice's summer assignments (which Alice refuses to start—on _principle_).

She glances at the books in my arms and rolls her eyes before checking her phone again.

"What does that make, Bella? Five hundred art books?" I avoid her question because she's probably right but I don't like her accusatory tone.

"I don't know, Alice, how's _Jasper_?" Sure enough, she pulls her phone up to her chest, hiding it from me. Jasper Whitlock was in our class, and has been flirting with Alice since the first grade. They were best friends in elementary school but middle school weirdness pushed them apart. They've been dancing around each other and their sexual tension since they were fourteen and are currently texting each other constantly but never actually seeing each other in person. It's annoying if anything.

We finally get in the car and Alice turns up the radio, some indie station we both like plays loudly while Alice sings along. Her voice is tinkling and high and I rest my head against the window, watching the green trees fly by. Everything is so lush and I honestly love Forks. It's a small town in Washington and it hardly ever stops raining. It's nice but it's boring. Alice turns onto my street, a gravel road right outside of the main part of town. There are only a couple other houses on my street, each on either side of my small, white-shingled two story. My dad's police cruiser isn't parked out front so I know not to expect him until later. I tell Alice that I'll see her tomorrow as I get out of the car and she peels out of the driveway, scattering loose stones in her wake.

I'm unlocking the front door when I hear someone call my name. Sure enough, it's Emmett—my neighbor. He's been playing football since he could walk and he's six foot four inches of pure hulking muscle, which would be terrifying if he didn't have such soft brown eyes and didn't tell such dumb knock-knock jokes. I've known him practically my whole life but at a distance. He's a year older than me and runs in a completely different crowd than I do. He's dating Rosalie Hale, for god's sake, the honor roll blonde goddess that everyone worships because they're secretly terrified of her.

Emmett waves from his mailbox and I wave back.

"Get anything good?" he asks, and I assume he means the books in my arms.

"Yeah, they had a new Van Gogh biography that I've been waiting for," I say cheerfully and he nods like he understands but I get the feeling he's just being nice. "What about you?" I ask. He sifts through his mail and holds up one envelope.

"Just a tuition bill for fall semester," he sighs. "It's no Van Gogh but I'll take what I can get." I laugh. Emmett's going to the local community college for a year or two to save money and has made it clear on multiple occasions that he's unhappy about it.

I say goodbye to Emmett and slip inside—it's dark in the house and I don't pause in the entryway long—I go straight upstairs to my room and open the curtains and windows. That's my favorite part of my room, I have a whole wall of windows that let in so much light. I set my books down in the large stack already sitting next to my full bookshelf. I have some novels and a memoir here and there but my library mostly consists of art books. Artist biographies, encyclopedias, museum collections, thrift store textbooks, anything really. I grab the Van Gogh biography and settle onto my bed. I don't stop reading until the streetlamps come on and my dad is calling me down for pizza.

My dad, Charlie, looks like me I guess, but grayer and his face is aging and aging more with the mustache he's decided to grow. He looks at me cautiously when I enter the kitchen because he doesn't know how else to look at me. Ever since my mom left it's like I've been a ticking time bomb even though I keep telling him I'm okay.

We spend our late dinners mostly in silence. I stare at his uniform and the lines in his forehead and he throws me concerned looks while I pick apart my food.

"How was your day?" I always ask because I feel like I should.

"It was fine," he begins and then usually follows with a story about something dumb the deputy did that afternoon.

I smile at all the right times and I clean up the table and wrap up the leftovers and I hope my dad is happy. He's quiet and isn't around a lot but when he is, I know he loves me.

He's the one that stayed.

* * *

It's a tradition for me and Alice to go to the Spartan Diner the night before the first day of school. We always get chocolate fudge milkshakes and sit on the curb outside, people watching and mourning the loss of summer.

"I think I'm going to wear that jean vest I found at goodwill with that black skirt I bought yesterday," Alice says, scooping whipped cream into her mouth with her finger.

"Punk," I say absently. She's been obsessing over her back to school outfit for the last week. I hear Alice sigh.

"I don't think I'm _trying_ to be punk this year," she says. "Maybe I'll wear that pink shirt with it…" and by that point I kind of tune her out. I sip my milkshake slowly and I like the way the sun is setting tonight. The colors and shadows are really nice and I feel like this current setting is something that Monet could paint, or maybe Turner. I sigh sadly, knowing I could never do capture this moment how it should be captured. Alice doesn't notice and keeps talking about the pink shirt. It bothers me that she's missing this moment of potential and beauty because of an outfit.

She smacks my arm and I break out of my reverie, feeling alarmed but also kind of bad for ignoring her.

"It's _Jasper_," she whispers and I follow her gaze down the street. Jasper is making his way towards us, running a hand through his shaggy blonde hair lazily, his t-shirt is so wrinkled it looks like he's been sleeping in it. I practically hear Alice swoon beside me and I understand why, Jasper _is_ cute. His eyes are a nice shade of blue and he's cool in that effortless way. I can never tell if he runs with Rosalie's crowd or not.

I almost don't notice that someone is walking next to him—and of course, that someone is Edward Cullen. Edward moved to Forks right after our freshman year and I've never actually spoken to him but he was big news when he got here. He's really tall and lanky but in a lean kind of way and he has cheekbones that could cut glass. His hair is too long and sticks up in all different directions and his eyes are a dark green. Not a blue green, not hazel, but _green_. Like the trees that line our town.

Not that I'd noticed, really.

Girls swooned over him and I couldn't really fault them. He was swooped up by Rosalie Hale and Lauren Mallory almost immediately but never seemed to be without Jasper. I never heard any dirty gossip about him and after a while, he just sort of quietly faded into the crowd.

As they get closer to us, I wonder what Alice will do—maybe what Jasper will. They've been texting practically non-stop for the last three months and I feel myself get nervous _for _them. Has Jasper noticed us? Alice is suddenly very interested in her milkshake, her eyes not looking past the melting whipped cream.

"Hey Alice, Bella," Jasper drawls and I practically sigh with relief. I feel Alice relax beside me.

"Hey," we say at the same time and Alice gives him a warm smile. The corners of his mouth turn up. It's a soft gesture but it seems genuine. I steal a glance at Edward and he catches me, pursing his lips. Has he gotten taller?

"What brings you to the Spartan?" I ask politely because Alice is back to studying her milkshake.

"Thought we'd grab a shake," Jasper offers. "Maybe we'll join you ladies if you don't mind."

I watch Alice's cheeks turn pink.

"That would be nice," I say. Jasper laughs quietly before they go inside the diner. Alice exhales loudly, like she's been holding her breath.

"You okay?" I ask, taking a sip.

"Why am I such a _spaz_ around him? God, he probably thinks I'm an idiot." I roll my eyes at her.

"Oh, please. Just talk to him, I don't know why you're so nervous—you've known each other forever," I say, exasperated.

"I just like him a lot, I don't want to screw anything up," she says quietly and I just keep drinking my shake, not sure what to say. I have little to no experience when it comes to boys—I spent the summer before I turned sixteen with Jacob Black, the son of one of my dad's friends, making out on the beach on the reservation where he lived and watching him mess with his car in his garage. He ended it right after school started that fall because it would "never work out" but never really explained himself. I spent about two days being sad but got over it. He used too much tongue and his hands were too dry. He was my first and only…whatever he was.

When the boys come back, Jasper sits down next to Alice and I'm surprised when Edward sits next to me. He stretches his long legs out onto the pavement. I don't know how he's wearing tight black jeans—I'm in denim cutoffs and I'm sweating.

"The sky is nice tonight," he says and his voice startles me. It's raspy and deep and his words are not what I expected. I nod, looking back out at the pinks and blues the sunset is making and I'm glad that Edward noticed the sky.

"I'm Bella, by the way," I offer lamely.

"I know," he says, cocking his head to the side slightly. "I'm Edward."

"I know," I say and I can't stop my smile. Edward's forest eyes are amused.

We don't talk anymore; we just drink our milkshakes and look at the sky, listening to Alice and Jasper murmur quietly to each other, watching day finally fade into night.

* * *

thoughts and comments are always appreciated xo


	2. Chapter 2

**_Chapter Two_**

Alice is driving me to school because it's raining and I would have ridden my bike otherwise. My dad's been trying to get me a car from one of his friends but it still needs a lot of repairs—it's starting to seem like I'll be bumming rides off Alice forever. She spends the car ride talking about Jasper over the music she has playing and I can barely hear her but she smacks my hand away every time I reach for the volume dial.

She keeps talking about Jasper as we park and then walk to the gymnasium to pick up our schedules, only stopping when we have to go to separate lines. My schedule this year is pretty good—advanced placement English, calculus, physics, gym, government and two study halls. One of the study halls is actually an advanced placement art history independent study. The school technically doesn't offer the course but they let me because one of the art teachers, Mrs. Cope, offered to help. I've had Mrs. Cope all through high school—once for a general art elective, other times for painting and ceramics and drawing. I was never any good at any of them but we liked to talk about art together and she liked my effort.

"Bella, please tell me you have sixth period lunch," Alice cries when she reaches me.

"I have sixth period lunch," I say comparing our schedules. The only thing we have in common is lunch and government but it's better than nothing. Teachers are telling us to go to our first period classes so we part ways and I head over to physics, which is at the far end of the building. Freshmen are walking around with their heads down and there are two junior girls laughing too loudly in front of me. Absolutely nothing is new and I have to fight a yawn.

When I get to physics, Rosalie Hale is sitting in the middle of the second row, like she has always done in every class, every year. Lauren Mallory and Jessica Stanley are flanking her on either side, whispering to each other while Rosalie adjusts the pens on her desk with perfectly manicured fingers.

I find a seat in the back of the room and pull out my Van Gogh biography. I jump a little, startled, when the teacher starts going over the syllabus.

This is how every class goes until lunch.

Alice is practically running to my locker, where I'm switching out my books and trying to ignore Jessica Stanley's glare from across the hall. We used to be kind of friends in middle school but we drifted apart. I don't know why she's giving me such a hateful look but it's making me uncomfortable.

"I have _so _much to tell you!" Alice squeals, slamming into me. She grabs the last textbook I need from my locker and shuts the door before propelling us forward to the cafeteria. Alice and I are opposites in motion—my movements are slow, calculated. Alice's hands never stop moving and her pace matches someone twice her height.

The cafeteria is already filling up, the line for food is long but we stand in it anyways, getting pizza and bowls of soggy looking fruit. Alice buys us a little package of cookies to "celebrate the first day of senior year."

Once we find a table in the back of the lunchroom by the windows, Alice begins. I take a bite of my pizza.

"Okay so _guess_ who is in my English class!" I'm not sure if I'm supposed to answer, because the answer is painfully obvious but she stays quiet so I offer, "Jasper?" as I chew on a piece of pepperoni.

"_YES,_" she groans, her smile is gigawatt. "He sat right next to me. He talked to Edward most of the time but I mean _still_. That's gotta mean something, right?"

"Totally," I say, and though I'm unsure, her smile grows impossibly wider. I let it go.

"Why is Jessica sending such negative vibes your way?" Alice asks, pointing over my shoulder. I turn around and there's Jessica in line for food, her eyes burning holes into me. I give her a what-are-you-doing look and she narrows her eyes. I'm turning back to Alice when Edward Cullen catches my eye across the room. He's staring right at me but he looks away quickly, sheepishly like I'd caught him at something. He picks at his pizza and nods at something the guy sitting across from him is saying and I can't help but notice how muscular his arms look in the t-shirt he's wearing. He has a black smudge on his hand and his bronze hair is sticking up more than usual.

Anyway. Turning back to Alice now.

She's smirking at me.

"What?" I ask, eating a strawberry.

"You just checked out Edward Cullen _in broad daylight in the cafeteria_," Alice laughs. "No wonder Jessica wants to rip your head off." I roll my eyes dramatically.

"_He_ was staring at _me_," I say and she smiles mischievously. I know where this is going so I say, "I wonder what Jasper thought of your outfit."

Alice beams and doesn't mention Edward Cullen for the rest of lunch. I try to keep focused on Alice, but I feel like someone is looking at me—maybe Jessica. Maybe Edward. I don't look up to see who.

* * *

"Have fun in gym," Alice calls after government. I groan, because I hate gym. I have no coordination and no desire to play basketball with a bunch of overly competitive high school boys. To make matters worse, Rosalie and Jessica are both in my class and already sitting in the mass of bleachers when I enter the gym.

I try to walk past them but Jessica's bubbly voice stops me. Everything she says sounds sweet, even if she's verbally abusing you. I brace myself.

"So you and Edward Cullen, huh?" I hear the skepticism, but also jealousy, dripping from her bubblegum voice. Rosalie stares at me indifferently.

"What?" I ask incredulously. I'm thankful no one is around us—gossip travels fast in a school this small.

"I saw you guys at the Spartan last night," she says. "_And_ your little lunchroom whatever."

"He and Jasper just stopped to talk to Alice," I sigh. "Trust me; nothing is going on with me and Edward. He's all yours."

This seems to satisfy her because she gives a little sniff and turns back to Rosalie, allowing me to slip away, to the back of the bleachers.

Coach Clapp hands out our uniforms and goes over the syllabus and I read my book until it's time for my last class of the day—independent study. I practically collapse in relief when I enter Mrs. Cope's classroom. She has the main fluorescent lights off and has lamps turned on throughout the room instead, rain lightly hitting the large windows on the far side of the room. She has past students' work all over the walls and she always has soft instrumental music playing. I'm beyond calmed; her room is my one safe space in this school.

I set my stuff down at a table and pull out my book—I'm almost done with it at this point. I don't think Mrs. Cope has an actual class this period so I'm surprised to hear someone else come in a few minutes later. I look up to find Edward Cullen setting his backpack down on the table across from mine with a thud and I don't think he saw me originally because he jumps a little bit when we make eye contact.

"Hi," I say, mostly to alleviate the awkward silence that falls over us.

"Hey," he says in his raspy voice, a crooked smile finding its way onto his face. I take note of the dimple that forms in his right cheek before going back to reading. He's pulling stuff out of his backpack and shifting around a lot and its more than distracting—I look up to find him with a pen and a sketchbook, finally settling into his seat. I try to focus on my book but I just stare at the pages, wondering what he's drawing, why he's here and if he'll talk to me again.

He answers my question with a question himself.

"Van Gogh, huh? Anything interesting?" he asks, his green eyes are soft and his smile is still crooked.

"Of course, he's _Van Gogh_," I say immediately and Edward laughs. I'm about to go on about my book but lucky for Edward, Mrs. Cope comes breezing into the room, covered in ceramic clay, spouting off apologies to both of us before sitting down in front of me with a packet.

"Bella, dear, this is what the test is going to cover—I have some books but I was thinking you could do some research papers to prepare, maybe some art projects…" and she launches into a million ideas that I am frantically scribbling down into a notebook. I can see Edward over her shoulder the whole time sketching and smiling.

"So," Mrs. Cope finishes, "I think that this course can end up being a bigger learning experience than just getting some college credit from a test. Art has a way of showing you yourself, Bella."

"I know, Mrs. Cope," I say and she pats my hand as she gets up. "So I'll start researching some artists to compare?" I ask and she gives me a thumbs-up.

"Maybe you can get Edward to help you," she offers and he looks up as she says his name. "He's just wasting his time in study hall."

Edward rolls his eyes at her and she rolls hers right back.

"You know I'm using this period to work on my portfolio," he says, exasperated but I think his tone is joking.

"Portfolio?" I ask before I can stop myself.

"For art school," he says and laughs because I'm probably visibly surprised. I never pegged Edward for an artist, but I guess it explains the black stains on his hands if nothing else.

"That's…impressive," I say slowly, unsure of my word choice. He beams at me.

"Thank you." We don't talk for the rest of the period, though I want to ask him about his art. I can hear Mrs. Cope humming at her desk and Edward's pen scratching on paper but I do my best to finish my book. The final bell rings and I have two pages left so I just stay and finish them, getting emotional like I always do when I read about Van Gogh. He was just a sad, lonely man who wanted to paint. He was a little crazy but still, he was a genius. Edward packs his stuff up slowly and if I didn't know better, I'd say he was doing it on purpose. When I look up after I close book, though, Edward is gone.

* * *

_thanks to those who reviewed the first chapter, i'm so grateful anyone is reading this at all._

_next chapter is already written and should be up soon xoxo_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"Isabelle Marie Swan don't you _dare_ pop that zit," Alice says from the other room. I frown, _how does she always know_?

"But Alice it's so _big_ and _white_," I whine. The zit's been growing since school started a week ago , first as a little red bump on my forehead to this giant irritated mountain of teenage terror.

"Just let it pass, you'll only make it worse." I sigh because I know she's right but it's just so tempting. I pull my chestnut hair over my face, contemplating bangs out of complete desperation. I haven't had bangs since…well since my mom was still around. But I don't want to go there right now. I pull my hair up quickly and dab more zit cream on the monster on my forehead, taking a long look in the mirror. My face is round, cheeks always pink, my nose tips up a little, like a ski slope. I have the beginnings of some serious dark circles under my eyes from getting such little sleep this whole week. I need to be less lazy with my make-up.

And normally, I wouldn't care.

But Edward Cullen is making me crazy.

It's his smile—his teeth are all so nice and straight, and over the last week I've seen so many versions it. There's this big grin he gets when Mrs. Cope compliments him on his work (I still haven't seen any of it, much to my dismay). It lights up his whole face, I swear his eyes grow brighter. There's the small smile he gives me, the crooked one where the right side of his mouth pulls up so I can see some of his teeth as well as that dimple in his cheek. There's the smile I see at lunch when I'm trying not to look at him across the room. When someone at his table says something and it's all off, it doesn't reach his eyes like his other smiles do.

I wonder if he's really happy over there.

I wonder if I'd make him happier.

And this is when I start to cringe at myself in the mirror, my face all red and blotchy, my t-shirt hanging loosely over me, suddenly aware of how wide my hips are in these jeans.

"Did you fall in?" Alice calls and I groan loudly in response.

I don't know why this is happening. It's not like we talk all that much in class, he still sits at another table, sketching or whatever it is he's doing and I'm trying to focus on picking a research topic but honestly he's distracting. Every so often he'll sigh or mutter something to himself under his breath and I'll look up and he'll be running a hand through that goddamn mess of bronze hair and I'm getting worked up for no reason in my bathroom on a Monday night while Alice paces my room.

Because Jasper is supposed to call her tonight.

And probably ask her out.

I finally make myself leave the bathroom and find Alice practically wearing a hole in my floor, wringing her hands together. I flop onto the bed next to her phone and I pull my Van Gogh book out of my backpack, tossing it in the pile of books next to my bed, all the ones I've read this past summer. Alice grimaces at the _thump_ it makes.

"You can always talk about it if you want," she says, finally stopping her pacing. I frown at her. "Like it's been six years, you've hardly said a word about her-" I start to stop her, to interject, but she keeps going "—you never even cried, like at all. You never acted out, you never even _reacted_."

"I'm just not an emotional person," I say, shrugging. Alice rolls her eyes.

"That's such bullshit and you know it, god Bella, she's your _mom _and these books, they're_—_" This time I don't have to cut her off because her phone is ringing and buzzing and her eyes grow wide.

"Answer it!" I shout, practically throwing the phone at her, the look on her face is a mix of excitement and absolute terror.

"Alice!" I say and she finally answers it with a cool _hello_? but I watch her wipe her free hand on her jeans.

I watch her blush and smile as she murmurs quietly to Jasper. I go back to my homework, and Alice leaves an hour later, still on the phone. She promises to call me later. When she's gone I toss my notes aside and pick up a book about the portrayal of women in ancient Greek art.

Alice calls later. They're going out on Friday. 

* * *

School drags. Alice is anxious about her date—every time we pass Jasper in the hallway her face turns an awful shade of purple and her smile is so big I'm surprised her face doesn't break in half. She says he talks to her in class but I can't imagine how that's going.

On Friday, we spend lunch talking about various date scenarios. Jasper hasn't told her anything about what they're doing but I keep assuring her it can't be anything too extravagant or wild. Jasper is too chill to do anything like that. I'm picking at my sandwich-the turkey is grayer than turkey should be—and trying to pay attention to what Alice is saying, but Edward has just taken his seat at his usual table and he's wearing this denim shirt that's only _mostly_ buttoned and I can't take my eyes off of him. And of course he notices my staring and when he meets my eyes, he gives me my crooked smile. It comes so fast it's almost like he couldn't help it. I smile back softly and I hear Alice clear her throat, and I find her looking back at me expectantly.

"So, dear Bella, do I see any double dates in our future?" I scowl at her tone.

"You're so annoying," I groan placing my forehead on the table.

"He's laughing at you," she giggles and I shoot up and she laughs harder when I make eye contact with Edward. His mouth is open, the corners pulled up and he doesn't look away immediately. His smile softens and his brow creases. I look away first.

* * *

Edward sits down across from me during independent study today. Like, at the _same table_ across from me. I'm scribbling down notes from my Greek art book when I hear the chair in front of me scrape across the linoleum floor. I look up, and Edward is settling in, pulling out his sketchbook, pens and various other pieces of paper. I stare at him until he meets my eye. He grins at me.

"I didn't see what the point was, sitting so far away from you. We're practically classmates," he says and though he shrugs, his eyes are bright. I keep staring at him.

"Unless you want me to go back over there," he says slowly and I blink.

"No!" I say, probably too loudly and too quickly. "I mean, yeah, you have a point." He laughs lightly.

"Okay, so what are you working on?" he asks and seems genuinely interested.

"Um, I'm looking to compare the portrayal of women in ancient Greece and in 19th century Paris. It's fascinating really because you would think that because it's such a huge gap in time there wouldn't be any similarities at all but there's a disturbing amount to back up the claim that times don't really change," and I stop here because I get the feeling I'm talking too much. Alice usually cuts me off far before that and my dad's eyes tend to glaze over by then.

"Have you looked at Renoir's works yet?" he asks and I feel my eyes widen at the mention of the artist's name.

"I-I-no," I stutter and then Edward spends the rest of the period talking to me about Pierre-Auguste Renoir and how he was kind of a sexist. He doesn't open his sketchbook and Mrs. Cope doesn't tell him to get to work. Instead she sits at her desk smiling and grading quizzes.

We keep talking after the bell rings. Edward waits for me as I pack up all my stuff, he's telling me about this Renoir exhibit he saw in Chicago a few years ago.

"The Art Institute was really close to where I lived, my mom and I would go all the time," Edward says and he's pulling his backpack on. He's got a few pins on it—all bands I've never heard of.

"You lived in Chicago?" I ask as we enter the hallway. People are crowding around us, rushing to lockers but we're walking slowly. I'm unsure about my next move—do I follow him? Do I go to my locker? Is that girl staring at us? I decide to walk towards my locker and see what happens.

"Yeah, my whole life," he says with a sad smile. "Until my dad got a job at the hospital in town. My dad's from here originally actually. My mom's from Chicago. I think she likes it here though." I'm starting to learn that Edward is a very open person. He gives far more information than I asked for but I'm glad. Everything he's saying is interesting and I feel like I haven't stopped smiling since he sat down across from me.

When we reach my locker, I slow to a stop and Edward looks confused.

"My locker," I say quietly, turning the combination. He smiles.

"I'll see you on Monday," he says and turns away, walking in the direction we just came from and turning a corner.

I hide my grin with my locker door. 

* * *

"Was there tongue involved?" I ask Alice over the phone that night. It's almost one in the morning and I'm deliriously tired, but Alice's excited voice on the other end of the line is keeping me awake.

"A lady doesn't kiss and tell," she trills and I pause because I know she's about to say: "BUT YES THERE WAS TONGUE AND HANDS AND BELLA HE IS SO GOOD AT KISSING."

Alice has been relaying the details of her date with Jasper for the last hour, starting from when he picked her up ("he opened the car door for me, he's _such _a gentleman") to their dinner that consisted of burgers on a pier in Port Angeles. It's totally not Alice's style but she insisted that it was sunset and so romantic. They'd walked around the town for a few hours while Alice talked and Jasper listened and he kissed her under a streetlamp. Then in the car. Then on her front porch.

"So are you guys together now or what?" I ask and I hear her sigh on the other line.

"We only went on one date, Bella, I can't label it yet." I can practically _hear_ her eyes rolling. I laugh at her and she clucks her tongue.

"I'll let you go to bed now," she says. "I'll see you tomorrow I'm sure. Goodnight Bell!"

"Goodnight, Al," I say quietly but when she hangs up, I don't go to bed. I hardly ever actually go to bed. Instead I reach for a book and read until my eyes fall shut.

I wake up in my book the next morning, my neck is stiff.

* * *

**hope you enjoyed this chapter. comments/questions/concerns/criticisms are very welcome! **

**also, the chapter is pretty long and can be split up-for future reference, do you prefer longer or shorter chapters?**

**thanks for reading xo**


	4. Chapter 4

_thank you for reading, it means everything to me, really._

* * *

**Chapter 4**

The next two months are uneventful. Alice and Jasper go on more dates and make out a lot but refuse to acknowledge their situation as a relationship. Jasper occasionally shows up to study sessions or dinners and I don't mind. Jasper laughs at my jokes and we talk a lot about music.

Edward and I talk more in independent study—he sits at my table every day. He talks with me about my projects—I'm currently working on a Monet Paint-by-Numbers to prove a point about the accessibility of famous works of art. Edward also just _talks_. A lot. I know that his mom's name is Esme and she bakes a lot and her garden is her pride and joy, but she's not used to this climate yet. He's allergic to tree nuts and his tongue swells up if he eats them. His favorite artist is the realist Eduard Manet and he thinks his painting _Luncheon on the Grass_ is one of the most important paintings of all time. Once he ate three chipotle burritos in one sitting and then was sick the whole night but he didn't regret it because Jasper had bet him twenty dollars that he couldn't do it.

But don't get me wrong, Edward asks me plenty of questions. He'll suddenly break off a sentence to causally ask something like, "Bella? Where did you go on vacation when you were a kid?"

And I want to say, "We didn't really go on vacations when I was a kid. My mom and I drove down to some beach in Northern California one summer but that's because she and my dad were fighting so much that she was threatening to leave him. And then she actually did leave him, so vacations of any kind sort of ended. I haven't left this area of Washington in over six years."

Instead I answer him with, "We never really went on vacation."

I don't know if it's the flat tone of my voice or the way I won't look him in the eye or if he just doesn't care, but Edward never presses me on these things. He accepts my answers and moves on, but his tone changes, it's almost purposefully distracted and manic. When I finally meet his eyes, they're soft with understanding.

It's hard to look at his eyes.

But it's harder not to.

So while I know so much about Edward, I am hyper-aware of the fact that he knows nothing about me besides a few vague details. I can't decide if this bothers me or if I like the distance it puts between us. I like having that little wall up—Alice hates the way I keep people at an arm's length, she says it isn't emotionally healthy but I don't know that many people well enough to know if it's not worth it. The less attached you are to something, the less it hurts when you lose it. Insert Alice rolling her eyes obnoxiously here.

Edward still hasn't shown me anything in his sketchbook. He always keeps it an angle that makes it impossible to see and I feel weird asking to look through it. Sketchbooks seem really personal to me and though Edward tends to be an over-sharer anyway, the fact that he hasn't offered up his art up on his own yet makes me pause.

Today, Edward asks me what I'm doing for Halloween.

"To be honest," I begin. "I didn't even remember it was Halloween until I saw Alice—have you seen her outfit today? She's ridiculous."

"Yeah the poodle skirt right? In case you haven't noticed, Bella—" my heart skips as he says my name—"Jasper is wearing a leather jacket and his hair is greased back. Not gelled back. _Greased_ back."

"Are you saying they planned this?" Edward smiles his big grin.

"That's exactly what I'm saying." I dissolve into quiet giggles. We've been talking about Alice and Jasper for weeks, not able to figure out why they aren't calling themselves a couple when they are so obviously doing couple stuff.

"Anyways, you never answered my question," Edward says casually as I begin adding green to a patch of grass on my painting.

"Probably working on an essay for English," I say and Edward sighs.

"While that sounds incredible, Emmett McCarty is throwing a party tonight."

"I know," I say. "Which is stupid because my dad's going to bust it immediately. He's lived next door to the chief of police his whole life, like, come on Emmett." My rambling is cut off by Edward's furrowed brow.

"You live next door to Emmett?"

"Yes," I say, dipping my brush in the pot of paint next to me.

"I've never seen you there. Huh."

"Are you at Emmett's a lot?"

"Not really a lot, but he and Jasper are kind of friends," he says, picking at the corner of his sketchbook. He hasn't even opened it today. It's just sitting on the table, the pages thick and used. I nod, because I _have_ seen Jasper there. They sit out on the front stoop sometimes or shoot hoops if the weather is nice.

"So you're going then?" I ask, willing my face to stay it's natural shade of pale.

"Yeah."

"Maybe I'll see you there," I say quietly, not looking at him. I feel my heartbeat in my ears.

"That would be cool." I can hear the smile in his voice. 

* * *

That night, my dad is working late, as he does every Halloween and I can now see how Emmett can get away with a party because the last place the chief is going to check is his own house (and neighboring houses I guess). Alice is sitting on the counter in my bathroom next to the sink, carefully applying her eye makeup. I'm sitting on the floor, working on an application to Northwestern. I don't think I'll get in but Alice tells me it doesn't hurt to at least apply. So far I've applied to University of Washington in Seattle and I've been looking into some other schools around here, though I'm not sure I want to stay in the area.

"So Edward asked you if you were going to Emmett's?" Alice asks. I nod at her reflection in the mirror. "Seems like he's hoping to see you there. Which means you need to put your computer down and let me do your hair." I groan.

"Alice, you know I hate parties and I want to get this stupid application done so I can get my rejection letter sooner. I bet it'll be on nice stationary." Alice ignores me.

"Just stop in with me, it's not like it's hard for you to get back home if you change your mind."

* * *

So, an hour later, my hair is curled and brushed and teased into an insane mess around my head which Alice claims is sex hair but I feel like a lion. I feel self-conscious as she touches up my eyes shadow and I'm grateful she isn't picking out my clothes. I stick with some leggings and a big cardigan.

"Sexy librarian," I joke with Alice as I pull on some boots. She rolls her eyes at me but doesn't protest. She's ditched her poodle skirt and has on this really short dress but it's high cut and has long sleeves. She's got tights on and some serious biker boots. Her hair's pushed up to one side and her lips are painted a dramatic red.

By the time we start walking across my lawn to Emmett's, cars are lining my street and I can hear music coming from an open window. There are a few people sitting on the porch smoking and Alice says hi as we walk past them to get inside. It's not nearly as nightmarish as I thought it would be. Emmett doesn't have a big house and there are a lot of people there, so it's cramped but it's not out of control. His parents' anniversary is the day before so they always take a few days off work and spend some time together at a cabin. His dining room table is being used for pong and everyone is pretty drunk already but it's manageable. Alice and I grab some drinks from the kitchen and go out to the back patio, where a few groups are scattered. Emmett is out here talking to Rosalie and Jasper, holding a beer in one hand and a poking at the flames in the fire pit. Rosalie looks on with her usual indifference and I notice she doesn't have a drink in her hand like everyone else I've seen. Jasper is no exception and he waves lazily over at me and Alice. His grin matches Alice's and she practically floats over to him while I trail behind.

"Is that Bella Swan?" Emmett's voice booms and I feel my cheeks redden.

"Hey Emmett," I say cautiously.

"Never thought I'd see you over here, glad you made it. You know Rosalie and Jasper right?" I nod and Rosalie raises an eyebrow at me.

"Did you know that Bella's been my next door neighbor forever and has never once come to one of my parties?" Emmett laughs and I can't tell if he's drunk or not.

"Wow," is all Rosalie says in her clear voice. I look to Alice for help but she's whispering to Jasper like always and I get the feeling I've lost her for the night. Luckily Emmett gets my attention again and he spends the better part of the next hour telling me stories and jokes and I even see Rosalie smile and it's spectacular. He's in the middle of a story about skinny dipping at La Push beach when we hear a crash from inside.

"There's always one," he mutters and walks, oddly cheerfully, inside with Rosalie following close behind. I can't see Alice or Jasper anymore and I'm contemplating leaving when the back door opens and Edward Cullen stumbles out with Jessica Stanley clutching onto his arm. They're laughing and standing so close together and I'm paralyzed by the ache I feel in my chest.

Because I am so, so stupid.

Why would Edward have invited me here? What did I honestly think was going to happen? What did I even _want _to happen?

This sudden flare of emotion though answers my question—I've been starting to have feelings for Edward. Real feelings that I've never felt before and that's so dangerous, right? I am grateful for the distance I've been keeping. I slipped up today when I said I'd come and I know now that it was a mistake.

God, _me_ with _Edward Cullen_?

Can you imagine?

I just didn't think it would _hurt_ so much. I watch Jessica laugh easily with him, they look so comfortable together and I know that could never be me. I'm so rigid, so cautious. I can barely hold a conversation with him about anything other than art. I'm such a mess.

I'm setting my drink down by the fire pit and I'm about to run home when Edward sees me and his face practically cracks in half as he smiles at me.

I try very hard not to cry.

So stupid.

"Bella!" he shouts and pulls himself away from Jessica. She gives me a poisonous look and follows after him. Soon, they're both in front of me and I'm feeling incredibly overwhelmed.

"Bella, you're here!" He throws his arm around my shoulder and I cringe involuntarily—not because it's a bad feeling, but because it would never mean what I wanted it to. Edward looks at me quizzically, but keeps his arm there. It's warm and I can feel his muscles move across my shoulders. _Hold it together, Swan. _

"Yeah," I laugh weakly and Jessica taps her foot.

"I've been waiting for you to show up _forever_ and now you're finally _here_," he says cheerfully and oh God he's so drunk but he smells like fresh cut grass and bar soap.

"I've been here for a while," I point out and he tries to focus his eyes on me but he's having trouble.

"Really? God, Bella you're so cool, isn't Bella so cool, Jess?"

"_So _cool," she sneers and I look at my shoes. "Maybe we should get you some water," she offers and I begin to hand him off to her but he tightens his grip around my shoulders.

"Nah, Jess, go have fun. I wanna hang out with my pal, Bella," he waves his free hand dismissively in her direction and she looks furious as she turns on her heel and storms away.

"What's her problem?" Edward slurs and sways on his feet. I pull us down onto a lawn chair nearby and he still won't let go of my shoulders.

"You kind of blew her off, dude," I say and he scoffs. It's getting colder out so people are starting to drift back inside, just a few people are hovering by the fire.

"Bella, I—" he sighs, "I just need to lay down, I think." He proceeds to stretch out on the bench, his head in my lap. He looks up at me with those goddamn green eyes. They're fighting to stay open, framed with thick, dark lashes. I can't move—I'm frozen, stiff as a board, hands glues to my sides.

"I really do think you're cool," he says after a moment of silence and finally lets his eyes close. One of my hands runs lightly through his hair and I'm horrified by the action, how creepy can I be? But his hair is so soft I can't help it. He's so drunk maybe he won't remember this in the morning. I run my fingers through more of the bronze waves. Does this count as assault? Edward's mouth turns up into one of his small crooked smiles and he lets out a low hum.

"Oh, Bella," he sighs quietly and I think he's going to fall asleep. Instead he keeps talking which is honestly unsurprising.

"Why do you like art so much? No offense but you're terrible at art—that Paint by Numbers is so sloppy." I laugh painfully, not because he's right but because he's so close I can feel his heartbeat.

"I'm serious," he claims. He even opens his eyes to prove it. "Give me a real answer, not one of your usual mystery answers. You're so frustrating, you know that?"

"I'm sorry," I whisper. He's asked the big question. I can't tell him, not like this, maybe not at all. I can't rip old wounds open again. I need to keep Edward further away from me than before, he's asking me something only Alice knows about and she barely knows at all.

But I can't lie to him either.

"Art helps me find things I've lost."

* * *

_i'd love to hear from you, reviews are always welcome. next chapter will be up soon xo_


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

My mom's name is Renee. Her hair is a lighter shade of brown than mine and way curlier, though she keeps it short because she hates when it gets in the way of whatever she's working on. She only ever wears a pair of navy blue rain boots and always hums old folk songs when she does the dishes.

At least, she did.

I haven't seen or heard from my mom in over six years.

Maybe she's a blonde now. Maybe she's into heavy metal.

I wouldn't know.

When I was little, I remember her making me bologna sandwiches with the crusts cut off and reading me lots of books about princesses and pirates and talking animals. The walls of our house were covered in framed art prints. Monet, Van Gogh, Klimt, Warhol—you name it. My mom loved art, she even dabbled a little in ceramics. I still have a little bowl she made me sitting on my dresser, holding pennies and bobby pins.

She took all the artwork with her when she left; our walls are almost bare now.

That summer we ran away to California, we stopped in what seemed like every art museum on the way and we would sit for what felt like hours to stare at paintings and sculptures. I remember feeling so antsy, as any ten year old would have been. I didn't really pay attention to the masterpieces around us, I didn't care. I could just see my mom's awestruck expression every time she crossed paths with a sculpture by Degas. The way she let out a long breath when a painting or a photograph caught her attention.

I never understood her fascination with art but after she packed her things two weeks before my eleventh birthday and bolted, I became obsessed with finding out why she felt the way she did about those artists and their works, like maybe if I could dig myself into her passion, I could dig myself into her mindset. Maybe I could find out all I was missing all those years I wasn't paying enough attention.

She didn't leave anything behind but one book that had fallen behind her own bookshelf—a collection guide to one of the museums we had stopped at that summer. I've never told my dad that I have it, I still keep it hidden under my mattress.

The pages are worn now as I flip through them. I left Edward with Jessica down by the fire at Emmett's, she'd come outside not long after my pseudo confession and Edward was starting to ask questions I didn't want him to, so I slipped away as quickly as I could.

I'm crying now but I don't know when I started, and the wetness on my cheeks surprises me. I haven't cried in a long time, especially not over my mother and never over a boy.

This ache will never go away, this feeling of loss will swallow me whole. I'll never have that closeness and understanding that I want but it feels like I'll never be able to stop making myself try, I want to drown in these paintings and stories forever. Edward is a painful distraction.

I cry quietly in my bedroom until Halloween fades away and the music and noise at Emmett's grows fainter, farther, like it never happened at all.

* * *

Of course, it did happen. And I'm painfully reminded of that fact when my phone goes off in the middle of the night while I'm lying in bed staring at the wall. It's a number I don't recognize so I let it go straight to voicemail. But then it rings again. And again. By the fourth call I answer.

"Hello?" My tone is harsher than I planned, even for a whisper.

"Bella?" the voice rasps back quietly. "Why are we whispering?"

"Because it's three in the morning, who is this?"

"It's Edward," he says but he drawls his name out so it sounds more like _Edwaaaaaaard._

"Edward why are you calling me—how did you even get this number?" I will my heart to stop racing and I hope my voice doesn't betray how flustered I am.

"Unimportant details. Come outside." I open my curtains and press my face to the window. Sure enough, Edward is sitting under the tree that sits between mine and Emmett's property, phone to his ear, but he jumps up suddenly.

"I totally see you right now," he says joyfully.

"You're so creepy," I mutter but I smile in spite of myself.

"I'm waving at you, can you see me waving?" Sure enough, Edward is closer to my window, his arm flailing wildly.

"You're embarrassing yourself."

"Are you coming out or not?"

"Give me a minute." With that, I hang up the phone and tiptoe-run to my bathroom, making sure my face isn't _too_ puffy. I can't remember if I saw Charlie's cruiser in the driveway or not. My hair is tangled on one side from being pressed into my pillow and I'm wearing the rattiest sweatshirt I own.

As I walk down the stairs, avoiding the creaky step, I try to convince myself to not be nervous, because it's just Edward and we're just friends.

It's only three in the morning.

He's probably not even that drunk still.

I ease the door open wide enough to squeeze through and let it close slowly, seeing that my dad is in fact home, his car in the driveway. Edward is taking big steps towards me and when he reaches me, his grin is impossibly big. He sits down with a _thud_ on the stoop, pulling me down with him.

"You're drunk," I say, bumping his shoulder with my own. He scoffs.

"Hardly at all anymore," he says sadly.

"Where's Jessica?" I ask.

"She left, I don't know. Speaking of Jess—you abandoned me with her and all I can say is: _what kind of friend _are_ you_?" I can't stop my laughter and he dissolves into giggles next to me.

"I mean," I gasp. "I thought you liked her—you guys looked pretty cozy coming outside earlier. I didn't want to intrude on anything." I bite my lip, maybe I've said too much, maybe I've crossed a line. He rolls his eyes.

"Jess is okay," he says slowly, taking a deep breath. "But I didn't want to hang out with _her_; I wanted to hang out with _you_."

My heart is pounding and he looks like a mess, to be honest. His hair is all over the place, like he's been running his hands through it all night. His eyes are droopy and his nose is shiny with grease and he's managed to get his sweatshirt impossibly wrinkled.

He's still so beautiful and his voice is impossibly deep and more scratchy than usual.

I don't respond, but I can't stop staring at him, and he's staring at me too, his smile is small but it's so, so _beautiful_.

"Bella," he says.

"Yes?" I breathe.

"Tell me something about yourself. I don't know anything about you." I sigh and think his request over, trying my best to come up with anything interesting about myself.

"I broke my wrist when I was thirteen. I can bend it really far back now," I say and demonstrate. I'd fallen off my bike and Alice couldn't stop crying because she's emotional like that. I wiped her snot up with my shirt wrapped around my good hand and we made the trip back to her house so we could go to the emergency room.

"That's so gross," Edward groans, but his eyes are bright. "I sprained my ankle once."

"Unimpressive. I've broken my wrist, broken my leg in three places, had two concussions, and I had my appendix _and _tonsils removed both when I was eight," I say, ticking maladies off on my fingers. Edward is laughing hysterically next to me.

"God, how are you even still _alive_?"

"We have a decent hospital here," I say. "How does your dad like working there?"

"He loves it," Edwards says. "He love Forks and he's just such a people person, he likes that he can connect with the patients. The hospital in Chicago was so big."

"That's really cool," I say, and I mean it. I wonder if I'll ever meet his parents.

"Anyway, tell me more," he urges. And I do. We spend the next few hours freezing on my stoop and I tell him about how my dad's allergic to dogs and how I've always kind of wanted to live in the city. Edward talks to me about Chicago and we imagine what we would do if we had one day to spend there. He makes me laugh with his stories and I give him a thoughtful expression when I mention logistics. He usually ends up rolling his eyes at my hypothetical concerns but he always considers them first.

"I love sunrise," Edward sighs and leans back on his elbows. The sun was barely coming up, just a hint of light over the trees. I turn towards him to catch a yawn leaving his lips.

"My dad is going to wake up soon," I say, fighting my own yawn back.

"Even after a late night like that?" he asks, scratching the scruff that's starting to grow on his jawline.

"Yeah, he never sleeps more than four or five hours a night, I keep telling him that's going to catch up with him but he never listens. Ditto with the amount of red meat he eats. Don't even get me started on vitamins."

"You take good care of him, don't you?" Edward asks softly. His eyes are tired.

"Someone has to," I sigh as I stand up, stretching my stiff muscles. Edward follows my lead and I can't help but notice the sliver of pale skin that shows on his abdomen when he stretches. My heart beats double time.

"Sucks it has to be you," he says and I freeze. I don't know why it's so surprising to me that he would know about my mom but it is. Of course someone's told him about it—especially someone like Jessica or Lauren. I can hear them now, _oh, Bella Swan is so messed up. Her mom left and she got _super_ weird. Stay away._

Edward senses my discomfort.

"I'm sorry, that wasn't my place to say anything," he rasps and rubs the back of his neck. The crinkles that form around his eyes tell me he genuinely feels bad about it.

"It's okay," I say, probably too quickly.

"Do you wanna ta—" I cut him off with a loud, quick "no!" and he furrows his brow at me.

"I mean," I say. "It's fine. I'm fine. Is your car close?" I need him to leave but my chest constricts at the thought of him stepping off of this stoop.

"Yeah, it's right over there," he jerks his thumb towards Emmett's driveway, where a small, rusted silver car sat.

"I'll walk you," I say. I'm willing myself to breathe normally. He walks beside me slowly, tentatively. I worry that he's starting to treat me differently. His shoulders are slumped and his eyes won't leave his shoes. I bite my lip.

"Don't feel bad, Edward," I say in what I wanted to be a reassuring tone but my voice broke. I don't know why I was so upset—my mom was a topic that hardly ever elicited a reaction from me at all. Maybe I'm just worried that he'll see I'm actually a mess and run away.

That's insane though. Right?

He still looks like he's beating himself up when we reach his car.

"Edward," I say forcefully. His silence is so uncharacteristic; it's kind of killing me. "Don't get weird on me, we were doing so well." I laugh weakly. He sighs but gives me a small, crooked smile, his dimple barely gracing his cheek.

"I'll see you Monday?" I say.

"See you then," he says and his hand moves, like he's reaching out to touch me. He draws it back to his side. My body aches with loss.

I watch Edward drive away down the street and I stay where I am long after he's gone—until I hear someone clear their throat from behind me. Emmett and Rosalie are sitting on his stoop, staring at me. Emmett looks incredibly amused, Rosalie looks intrigued.

"Sorry," I squeak nervously and Emmett salutes me.

I practically run home, my face burning bright red.

* * *

**it might take a few days longer for the next chapter to get up, classes start again on monday. drop a review in the box if you feel so inclined xo**


	6. Chapter 6

**I just wanted to say how blown away I am from the response over the last chapter, thank you so much to those of you that posted about this on facebook and those that took a chance on my writing. anyways enough of my rambling. onwards.**

* * *

**Chapter 6**

Rosalie Hale is staring at me like she did at Emmett's on Saturday morning. The warning bell has just gone off and I'm walking into Physics slowly, still tired from not sleeping on Halloween. My dad had let me sleep in until about nine the next morning but he woke me up, accidentally slamming the front door on his way out.

Really, nothing unusual there.

What _is_ unusual is Rosalie looking at anyone—especially me—without her usual bored indifference. I self-consciously swipe a hand over my mouth/nose area in case I have something on my face. She raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow and finally lets her gaze shift to the chalkboard. I take a deep breath.

I'm worried that Jessica said something to her about me and Edward. Not that there's anything to tell, but Jessica is prone to jealous overreactions.

I overthink this for the rest of the day, even though Rosalie doesn't even so much as look in my direction anymore.

When I get to independent study, Edward is already sitting at our table, sketching furiously. His whole body curls around what he's working on. As I walk past him, I catch a glimpse of clean, dark lines on the paper in front of him. I set my bag down across from him quietly, not wanting to interrupt him. His thick eyebrows are drawn together and his mouth is screwed up to one side in concentration. Tufts of copper hair are falling over his forehead and I feel my heart squeeze itself. I push the feeling away with a shake of my head, drifting over to Mrs. Cope's desk to show her my progress on my Paint-by-Numbers. We talk a little about it and she glances over the paper I've written to accompany it.

"I'm impressed with your work so far, Bella. This is college level research and writing," she says and I find myself grinning at her. "I definitely want to look at your application essays for school before you send them out. Where are you applying?"

I start counting off schools on my fingers as I list them.

"U-Dub, Seattle Pacific, Oregon State, some random private schools in California, Northwestern is my big pipe dream."

Mrs. Cope looks pleased and also annoyed at my phrasing.

"Don't count yourself out, Bella, you're an excellent student—they'd be lucky to have you."

"Tuition alone costs more than my dad's house," I sigh.

"Loans and scholarships, dearest. Now go do some work." She turns back to grading little ceramic pots and as I turn to go back to my seat, Edward isn't drawing anymore. He's watching me, eyebrows raised and a small smile playing at his lips.

"What?" I ask self-consciously. Why is everyone staring at me today?

"Northwestern, huh?" he asks and it's like he's trying to hold his grin back.

"Yes," I say slowly, getting my paints out and sitting down across from him.

He can't hold back anymore, a smile splits his face in two.

"Are you going to explain what's going on?" I ask and he laughs.

"No, it's my turn to be mysterious now, I think." His meaning is not lost on me and I feel my cheeks flush.

"How was your day?" I ask and I'm hoping things aren't still weird between us.

"Fine, I guess," he sighs. "Tyler Crowley dumped some sophomore at lunch right in front of everyone at our table and she was _so _upset, it was awful."

"That _does _sound awful," I say sympathetically. I remember someone rush from their table halfway through the period. I was too distracted by the distressed look marring Edward's features to notice who.

"It just sucks Jasper isn't in sixth lunch. Tyler and Jess and all of them are okay I guess but I don't know, I feel like I don't have anything to talk to them about. I'm just kind of…there." This bothers me. I'm not sure why, but just the thought of Edward feeling out of place pulls in my chest. It strikes me that he might not be as open with everyone as he is with me.

Which is what prompts my next sentence.

I really don't mean for it to come out. It's doing the opposite of what I need to do—I need to keep him at a distance.

But my mouth forms the words and my tongue pushes them out anyways.

"You could always sit with me and Alice, if you want." His joy is concealed under a skeptical look.

"I don't want to intrude," he says cautiously. This is my chance to take it back. _Take it back. Do it._

"Really, it's fine. It'd be nice to hear someone talk about something other than Jasper Whitlock." Edward smirks at me.

"But think of all the Jasper related insight I can bring to the conversation," he says cheerfully and I groan.

"Don't make me change my mind." _Make me. Please._

"I'll be on my best behavior, I promise." His smile melts me, and I realize I'm actually excited to see him at lunch, not because I like to look at him but because I genuinely like him as a person. I wanted to hear more of his stories and more of the things that make his eyes glow brighter.

I wonder if he wants to know those things about me, too and I can't help but mourn the fact that he might never be able to know me like I feel like I know him.

"Edward?" I say suddenly, not realizing I've been lost in thought for so long. He looks up from his sketchbook expectantly. "Where are you applying to?"

"All over really," he says. "A lot of places on the east coast." I smile but I get the feeling it comes across as a grimace. My distance is justified.

He'll be gone by August.

* * *

The next day at lunch Edward meets me at the door. He's waiting when I enter, looking around skeptically but he lights up when he catches my eye.

"What are you doing?" I ask slowly, and I can't stop my smile at the sight of his.

"You're kind of late; I didn't know if you'd changed your mind about lunch." If he wasn't constantly glowing with confidence, I'd say there was a touch of uncertainty in his voice.

"Why would I change my mind?" I ask, crinkling my brow.

"I don't _know_, Bella," he sighs but he's amused. Maybe I'm missing the joke. We stand in line for food and Edward asks me about my classes and I make fun of the ink stains on his hands.

We pass Jessica on our way to the table and I can practically feel the fury radiating off of her skin as she taps her manicured nails on the tabletop.

"She's going to kill me," I whisper to Edward after we've retreated to a safe enough distance. He laughs loudly.

Alice is already sitting down and doesn't look surprised to see us together. Actually, she hardly looks up from her magazine.

"I was wondering how long it would take her to invite you over here," she muses, running a hand through her short hair. The tips are blue now. My face practically bursts into flames. Edward smiles at her and bumps my shoulder with his arm lightly.

"I think she just wanted to see me suffer," he says easily. I wonder how often they hang out together with Jasper. How much I've missed.

"Anyways," I say but I don't finish my sentence as I sit down across from Alice. Edward drops into the seat next to me.

Alice smirks but asks Edward a question about the book they're reading in English.

I exhale.

* * *

My dad is home relatively early tonight and by early I mean eight o'clock. He helps me make spaghetti and it's weird having him around like this and I turn the television on in the next room so our silence is less tense. We step around each other awkwardly, turning the stove on and chopping herbs.

"How was school?" he asks as I'm straining noodles.

"Um, fine. Nothing exciting," I say, looking up at him. Charlie's eyebrows are pulled together and I get the feeling that he's trying too hard.

"And your applications? How are those going?" His voice is tenser, clearer than his usual gruff mutterings.

"They're going well," I say slowly as we move to the already set table. He nods and piles pasta on his plate, focusing intently on the noodles in front of him.

"Is everything okay?" I ask and he pauses what he's doing briefly but continues, trying even harder to be calm and normal.

"Why would you ask that?" he says too quickly. I raise an eyebrow. "Everything's fine, Bella. Just stressed about work."

I let it drop because his tone is urging me to do so.

He looks like he's at war with himself internally over something and I'm getting increasingly agitated and stressed over his expression and I get the feeling he's keeping secrets from me. We eat the rest of our dinner in strained silence aside from Charlie gruffly slurping noodles and me scraping my fork as my push my food around on my plate. When I stand up to clear the table, unable to take anymore, he clears his throat awkwardly as he places his dish in the sink.

"I love you, kid," he says and I feel my shoulders relax slightly.

"I know you do, Dad." He smiles under his mustache.

"Just wanted to make sure you knew. I know I'm not here a lot and I don't say much but..." he trails off and shrugs.

"Love you, Dad." I say, my face burning. I'm not sure what to say or how to react. My dad isn't usually vocal or affectionate or anything like that, so I know whatever is bothering him is huge. But he's also incredibly honest and up front with me.

I feel like I need to ask him point-blank what's going on, but I'm being overrun with feelings of warmth over what he's saying and a lump is rising in my throat so I clean up as quickly as I can, leaving him in front of the television as I escape to my room. I consider calling Alice to dissect the situation but I remember she's going out with Jasper tonight. I feel my anxiety level rising and I need to talk to someone and my heart jumps as I realize who the best person to fill that position is. I pull out my phone and scroll through my recent calls until I find the number I want.

He answers on the third ring.

"Well, well, well, what a surprise this is," Edward says. His voice is rough but so bright and I can almost _feel_ the tension leave my body.

"I just wanted to…talk I guess," I say and I'm hyper aware of the fact that I have no plan for this conversation, I just needed to hear his voice.

"Didn't get enough of me at lunch?" he teases and I roll my eyes even though he can't see me.

"Trust me, I got _plenty_." He laughs softly and I curl around a pillow in bed, pushing the book I've been reading to my bedside table.

"Please, you missed me."

"Wow, I regret calling you already," I say, sighing dramatically. He scoffs.

"Okay, I'm done now."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Kind of."

"How was your evening?" I ask, my smile is huge.

"Subject changer," he accuses. " It was fine, my mom made stir fry so actually it was amazing, I lied before."

I laugh and he tells me more about his night, his homework, even gives me some song recommendations and pesters me about them until I actually listen to them with the phone pressed to my ear. We're on the phone for the better part of three hours, Charlie barely crosses my mind. Edward's voice and laugh consumes me. It's almost midnight by the time he hears me yawning and he yawns in response.

"Go to bed, Bella," he says sleepily. I hear him shifting around on the other line. I wonder if he's in bed too. I wonder what he wears to bed. Oh god, what does his bed head look like?

"Kay," I drawl softly because I don't trust my voice to say anything more.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he rasps.

"See you, goodnight Edward."

"Goodnight Bella." My chest feels like it's collapsing in on itself as I hear a _click_ and he's gone. But I feel content with that, my cheeks hurt from smiling and I feel _lighter._

I don't even pick up my book, how could I possibly focus on medieval tapestries when Edward Cullen's voice is wrapping itself around my lungs?

For once, I fall asleep on my pillow not in a book, forest eyes lulling me into unconsciousness.

* * *

**next chapter should _hopefully_ be up relatively soon. if i end up staying true to my outline this should end up being around 19 chapters.**

**anyways, reviews are always welcome, they seriously make my day, i can't even begin to tell you. xoxo**


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry this took SO long to get out, this week has been absolutely crazy. Thank you to those who reviewed, and to those who are still reading this. I really can't tell you how grateful I am. **

* * *

**Chapter 7**

"It's official," Alice says, dropping her backpack into the chair next to her. "I sent out my last application in study hall. It's all up to the admissions gods now."

I applaud her from my own seat and she takes a little bow as Edward reaches us, his tray piled with food. He always eats enough for three people; I don't know where he puts it all.

"What's going on?" he asks, smiling his usual smile.

"Alice just finished her last application," I say and Edward congratulates her, his tone bright and sincere.

"Are you almost done?" he asks me.

"I finished a couple days ago," I say with a shrug, his eyebrows raise.

"Me too," he says happily.

It's the end of November and our class is already slipping into senioritis. Most applications have gone out, winter break is coming up and no one really has a drive to do anything. There's an excited buzz around the school and I can feel it myself. Mrs. Cope was so excited to read my admissions essays, she talked them up for days and I'm actually feeling confident about getting in somewhere, maybe even Northwestern. Edward and Alice are endlessly supportive; Alice offers so much feedback on what I've put in my essays and helps me with the application process itself, and I do the same to her. I'm a harsh editor, but I think she appreciates it (when she's not muttering angrily as I cross out entire paragraphs). Edward brings me candy and always gets an extra soda when he can tell that I'm feeling run down. The gesture is friendly, I know that.

But then there are times where he'll put his hand on my elbow for longer than necessary, or his leg will brush up against my under the lunch table and he won't move it away. Through two layers of clothes I feel the heat of his skin against me and I feel like I'm falling apart on the inside. My body aches to get closer to him, to reach out and grab his hand, to tug softly at his mess of hair with my fingers.

But something in my chest stops my wandering hands. While I practically _yearn_ for his skin like some stupid, love-struck teenager, I panic over the loss of him more. I know he's bound to leave, he's going to go far away and I mean, Alice is most likely going to New York or Southern California, but I know that we'll be fine. Alice's friendship with me runs too deep. We've been through so much together; our lives are twisted at the roots.

But Edward is another story.

He still won't tell me where he's applied to. It's annoying but also incredibly stressful. It's like we're stuck in limbo and I can't figure out the next step. At least I can place where Alice and I will be on a map. Edward is just floating around in space, giving me headaches.

And honestly, it shouldn't matter. We've become sort of friends over the last few months and that's it. There's nothing binding us together, it's not like it is with Alice.

But there's something that makes me feel like it is. Like there's this string that runs through my chest to his and I feel this pull when he's near me and I'm in a constant state of loss when he's not. I just can't deal with anymore loss.

Sitting next to him now, my heart is practically swelling with emotion. His eyes are so bright, like a light is shining under the green pools, as he talks to Alice about the impending snowfall—the first of the season. His long, pale fingers are drumming excitedly on the table, ink stains on the side of his hand and some paint is stuck under his nails. This is new, I've never seen paint before, and trust me, I pay close attention. One of his hands moves to his hair and tugs through those auburn locks roughly. It's getting so long, curling around his ears and his neck.

He catches me staring and breaks into a crooked smile.

"What?" he asks quietly. I feel myself flush.

"Nothing," I say. "When's the snow supposed to start?"

"The guy on the news said noon, but who knows?" Edward keeps talking and I'm listening but Alice catches my eye. She's staring at me, head cocked to the side looking beyond intrigued but she doesn't say anything.

We talk about the snow and the possibility of an early release if the weather is too bad but I secretly hope that we don't because then I won't see Edward in independent study.

The bell rings and we make our way out the doors, Edward brushes into me when a freshman runs past him. He curls around me, his hand going to the crook of my elbow to steady himself. My skin lights on fire as I feel his hand through the wool of my sweater. My eyes go to where his fingers are splayed across my arm, where they stay longer than they need to. I look up at him and his eyes are locked on mine, electricity crackles in our gaze.

"I'll see you later," he says, his voice rougher, lower than usual. I can't make my voice say anything at all as he ducks into a classroom.

Alice and I walk to government in silence but I know it won't stay that way once we reach our seats in the back of the classroom.

She keeps quiet though, even after we sit down. We're early, the room is mostly empty. I feel her looking at me out of the corner of her eye.

"Just spit it out," I sigh. She lets out a deep breath.

"You're so in love with him it makes my head hurt," she says and I look around to make sure no one heard her.

"Alice!" I hiss. She smirks. "I'm not in…_love_ with him."

"Maybe, but you're getting there." She sounds so confident, so sure of her words. My heartbeat quickens.

"You don't know what you're talking about," I mutter even though I know deep down she's probably right.

"Cut the shit, Bell. You like him. It's okay to like him. He looks at you like the sun shines out your ass, it'd be hard _not_ to like that."

I don't really have a response but I don't need to because our teacher is asking for us to pass up our homework.

All through class I stew over Alice's accusation. I know it's true; I'd be really pushing it if I denied that I liked Edward. I'm stubborn but not stupid.

The real issue is what to do about it.

Which I guess isn't really an issue because I know that I will do absolutely nothing.

See: abandonment issues.

See also: Halloween party fiasco.

Alice doesn't mention it anymore because she knows it won't do any good. She can probably see the wheels turning in my head all through class.

In gym I'm so distracted I accidentally hit Jessica Stanley in the stomach with a volleyball and she nearly kills me right then and there. Everyone else laughs, though.

I'm a wreck by the time I get to independent study. Edward is already there, but instead of sketching he's got a cheap watercolor palette next to him, adding color to thick, dark outlines I can't make out in his sketchbook.

"This is different," I say, taking a seat. He looks up at me, grinning.

"Just experimenting," he answers easily, blending some greens and blues on the palette.

"Isn't that what college is for?" I tease. He rolls his eyes but the smile doesn't leave his lips. I forget my previous anxiety, I can hardly remember why I was nervous to see him at all. I'm overcome with this wave of feeling _content_. Like I can let my shoulders relax and breathe deeply because Edward is here and so everything will be fine.

We spend the period like we always do, laughing at each other and talking about my projects and when the bell rings, Edward walks me to my locker like he does every day.

This time, he hesitates by my locker as I'm getting all my stuff together.

"So, um, I was thinking," he begins and I stare at him.

"Yeah?" I say.

"Do you want to come over? To my house? Just to hang out for a while?" I don't think I've ever seen Edward look more nervous than he does in this moment. It's adorable, honestly.

"Oh, I don't know, Edward," I say softly, trying to ignore his cuteness. I'm so torn, because I do want to hang out with him. My heart feels like it's trying to jump out of my chest to go home with him. But the nerves that twist my stomach make me pull back.

"I mean, not to brag or anything but I have like, six frozen pizzas in my freezer and I'm really good at preheating the oven so…" His confidence is back with a vengeance.

"How am I going to say no to that?" I ask weakly.

"You don't have to say no, Bella." As soon as my name leaves his lips I'm undone.

"Okay then sure," I say even though I'm not sure at all.

"Really?" His happiness is blinding.

"Yes, just let me tell Alice she doesn't need to drive me home.".

"I gotta grab my books. I'll meet you out front."

It doesn't take long to find Alice; she's standing close to Jasper at her locker, adjusting the collar on his jacket.

"Hey," I say as I reach them.

"I'll be ready in a minute," Alice says, not looking at me.

"Actually," I say. "I don't need a ride today. I'm going to Edward's." Her head snaps in my direction so quickly I feel like it's going to fly off her neck. Jasper stares at me, eyebrows raised.

"Anyways, I'll see you guys later." I walk away before Alice can say anything, but I'm sure I'll get a very loud voicemail later.

Edward meets me out front and walks me to his car. It's snowed a lot already and the ground is slippery. I almost fall twice by the time he makes me hold onto his arm. We pass Lauren and Rosalie on our way to the car and I watch Lauren whisper something to Rosalie, her mouth curling into a terrible sneer. Rosalie ignores her and gives me a small smile.

I'm too stunned to even smile back.

Edward unlocks my door for me and his car is a mess. The backseat is full of sweatshirts and CDs. CDs are stacked on the floor of the passenger seat and he quickly moves them to the back so I can settle in. He's got the heat blasting, which I'm grateful for because my face is burning from the icy wind outside.

He's got music playing as we're driving out of the parking lot. It's some alt-rock song that Edward's singing along to about sad movies and late night drinks. He's got a nice voice, mostly on key and so warm. I feel comfortable in this small, rusty car. I watch the snow falling in thick, wet flakes, the ground mostly covered but they've been keeping the roads salted for the last few days so they aren't too bad.

Edward lives on the opposite side of town from me, where the nicer, bigger houses are closer to the river. His street isn't too crowded with houses, just a few others. He pulls into the driveway of simple brick house with a wide front porch. There are blue shutters on all the windows and the front door is a deep red.

"My mom's home, she might ask you a million questions—just a heads up," he says casually but my chest constricts with nerves.

We go in through the garage, stomping our boots to shake the snow off so we don't track any inside. The kitchen is the first thing I see, all bright daylight and smelling like candles; white cabinets and new appliances up against warm, tan walls. A woman is sitting at the table, sighing on the phone and rubbing her temples. I assume she's Esme Cullen because her hair is the same shade as Edward's, piled neatly on top of her head. She looks up when Edward closes the door behind us and smiles broadly. She has the same dimple as him, too.

Edward sets his stuff down on a barstool behind the kitchen island in the middle of the room before taking my bag and coat from me, doing the same. Esme is ending her conversation while Edward pulls a cheese pizza out of the freezer.

"Hey, mom," Edward says, preheating the oven. I take a deep breath. "This is Bella."

"It's nice to meet you, Bella," she says warmly. "I've heard so much about you."

"Hopefully all good things," I say, glancing at Edward. He smirks when my voice cracks.

"Nothing but the best," she assures me. I smile cautiously at her. I'm really bad with moms. I can talk to middle aged men about fishing and football all day but put me in a room with a mom and I turn into a stuttering mess. I think she can see I'm sort of uncomfortable and I hope I'm not offending her.

"So you're in art, like Edward is?" she says, looking to him to make sure she's got her facts straight. He nods.

"Yes ma'am," I say. "But only the history, I'm not so gifted at making it." Edward laughs loudly.

"It's true, she's terrible," he adds and Esme gives him a look.

"Can't argue with him," I say and my voice is clear, I feel confident. Comfortable, even because Edward is grinning at me. Esme asks me about artists I like and she knows a little bit herself. I can talk about art to anyone forever. The oven dings as Esme is asking me questions about college.

"Yeah, I'd really like to go to Northwestern," I say with a shrug, she probably thinks I'm crazy. Her eyebrows raise.

"Oh really? Did Edward tell you that—" but he cuts her off, holding the finished pizza on a cutting board and making his way towards me.

"We're going to go watch TV downstairs," Edward says quickly, pulling a door open with his free hand. Esme looks annoyed.

"Well, I won't be in your way too much," she says kindly, mostly to me. "It was nice talking to you, Bella."

"Nice talking to you, too," I say and I follow Edward through the door and down the stairs. I find myself in a small, finished basement, the walls painted a warm tan like the kitchen. There's an old couch and coffee table in the center of the room facing a big television. I step off the stairs and to my right, there's an entire wall of shelves, filled with records and CDs. On the center shelf is a modest record player.

"Wow," I sigh because it's honestly overwhelming. "Are these all yours?"

"Not all of them," he says. "Most of them, but a lot of the older ones are my dad's." I nod and I make my way over to the shelves, looking at the titles. I recognize a few of the older ones.

"Want to put one on?" he asks and suddenly he's so close to me. I can feel him behind me, his breath on my skin. I nod and grab one with a black cover. I have no idea what it is and he's so close I feel like if I take half a step back, I'll be pressed against him. He takes the record and he moves to put it in. I watch the hair fall over his eyes as he moves the needle to where he wants it.

The song starts quiet, just some simple strumming on a guitar. It's airy, I feel it in my lungs. A girls voice starts singing, and _ooh_-ing and I turn to Edward, he's looking at me with that intense gaze we shared after lunch. It's all too much. Far too much.

"So is this pizza really all it's cracked up to be?" I ask, my voice hoarse. He blinks but recovers quickly.

"You tell me," he grins and we go over to the couch. I sit down, curling my legs under me and reaching for a piece of pizza. He stretches out next to me, but not close enough that he's touching me. I take a bite.

"You _are_ good at preheating ovens," I say. He laughs and it's almost as if that energy from earlier has been pushed aside. Not gone, because I don't think it will ever be gone when I'm with him, but it's distanced—waiting for another moment. But right now, I talk to Edward about pizza and laugh at his jokes and I'm just so happy to be near him. When the record comes to an end, Edward puts the TV on and we watch bad reality shows. I can hear Esme walking around in the kitchen upstairs but she doesn't come down the whole time I'm there.

* * *

Edward drives me home a few hours later, Charlie's cruiser isn't in the driveway yet. He finds a song I know on the radio and makes me sing at the top of my lungs and laughs at me when I get all the notes wrong. I sing louder and louder and louder.

When I watch him back out of the driveway from my front door, I feel like I've just stepped out of a dream. My foyer is dark, the walls white and bare, not warm like Edward's house. But instead of running to my room like I usually do, I turn lights on downstairs, I put the radio on. I start cooking something for my dad, singing along quietly to whatever's playing. My phone buzzes, I haven't checked it all afternoon.

Three texts from Alice:

_You have some explaining to do!_

_Are you still with him? Call me when you're home!_

_Use protection ;)_

I roll my eyes at her messages; I won't call her back right away. I'm going to float in this moment for a while.

The newest message is from Edward.

_If there's a snow day tomorrow, I have two sleds and more pizza._

I text him back.

_I'll be there._

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**reviews are always welcome! hopefully the next chapter will be up this weekend-that's what I'm shooting for.  
**

**in case you're interested, the song Edward plays in the car is "the weekend" by modern baseball and the song on the record is "a world alone" by lorde. at least, that's what I was listening to when I was writing those moments. **

**thank you for reading, until next time xoxo**


	8. Chapter 8

**okay so this is going up sooner than i anticipated, i honestly couldn't stop writing and i'm so anxious to get it out to you. this story was featured as a fresh face on International House of Fanfic so that was pretty exciting. Thank you for reading, and thank you to those who reviewed. It means so much.**

**if my chapters had names, this one would be called Sometime Around Midnight. because i listened to that song, by the airborne toxic event, on loop through this entire chapter. it's fitting, i think. **

**Anyways.**

* * *

"Edward, I need you to take about five steps away from me, and let me see your hands. I'm not joking," I shout, but he's making his way closer still, hands behind his back. His eyes are mischievous, his cheeks red from the cold.

"Edward," I warn, backing up and shielding my face. Soon enough, he's on me, smashing a snowball over my head and laughing with so much glee I could swear he was eight, not eighteen. Snow is falling down the back of my coat and I shriek from the sensation on my skin. I pull my scarf tighter around my neck and make sure my gloves are tight enough on my hands. Edward's jogging away from me, back behind some trees at the edge of his yard. I bend down and start scooping up as much snow as I can before I take off in his direction as fast as my boots will carry me. He's standing ten yards in front of me, tossing a tightly packed snowball between his hands and grinning at me. I'm running and running and running until I'm not anymore. I'm falling, my boot caught on something under the white powder and I land face first in the pile of snow meant for Edward. He's howling with laughter as I'm spitting snow out of my mouth, rubbing it from my eyes as the ice stings my skin. And then he throws his snowball, which hits me in the left arm.

"Are you done yet?" I sputter.

"Yes, let's go get you cleaned up, Champ." He helps me up and starts brushing the snow from my clothes for me, which is all very innocent but all I can do is imagine his hands running over me in a different scenario.

It's the first Monday of winter break, the middle of December. We've been hanging out pretty regularly after school for the last few of weeks but this is our first whole day off that we've spent together. Alice and Jasper are there sometimes; occasionally we'll all study or drive to Port Angeles to see a movie. Today though, there's no rush to leave, to do homework, to do anything at all. Edward showed up in my driveway this morning, all bundled up and bursting with energy and told me to grab all my snow gear.

Which brings us to right now—soaked, numb and laughing like maniacs.

Edward leaves me in the kitchen, talking to Esme about plans for the holidays while Edward grabs us some dry clothes. My Christmas usually consists of my dad making a ham—the one thing he cooks really well. I make potatoes and gravy and a few pies. We watch _It's a Wonderful Life_ and he falls asleep early, stuffed full of food. It's the only tradition we have that hasn't really changed, except I'm doing the cooking my mom would have done. She used to cry through the whole end of the movie and I always teased her about it.

"We have plans to go to visit my parents in Chicago tomorrow. If the weather cooperates we should get back on New Year's Eve," Esme says, she sounds so relieved. I remember Edward mentioning his trip last week, he seemed excited about it.

"Do you miss it a lot?" I ask as I'm pulling off my boots and gloves.

"Sometimes," she sighs. "But I like it here, too, don't get me wrong. It's a nice change of pace. My husband is so happy to be back."

"I'm glad," I say. I've met Mr. Cullen a few times. He always seems really busy but he's friendly enough. His eyes are bright like Edward's even though they're more of a gray than green.

"I was worried about Edward at first," she says. "He didn't have a lot of friends in Chicago but he seems to have found some good ones here."

I'm surprised, of course. Edward is electric; people would flock to him if he'd allow it. I feel warmth spread in my chest when I realize I'm one of the lucky few.

He comes downstairs then, his hair wild and still damp, wearing worn jeans and a loose sweater. He's carrying a pile of clothes and hands them to me.

"I hope these at least _kind_ _of_ fit," he says uncertainly. I thank him and retreat to the bathroom, ready to peel these wet layers off.

Once I get them on—a big sweatshirt with the Chicago Cubs logo on it and sweatpants that I have to roll a bunch to keep from dragging on the ground over my feet. He even brought me a pair of thick socks. I'm overwhelmed by the sent on the clothes, like boy, like soap and trees and _Edward. _I'm in heaven and I wish I could describe the emotion flooding me but I can't gather any words for it. It just _is._

Esme takes my wet clothes to put in the dryer as soon as I get back into the kitchen. Edward is on his phone, sitting at the table but when he looks up at me I can see him inhale, his cheeks redden ever so slightly. I feel self-conscious until he smiles so widely he almost gets a dimple in his other cheek.

We go downstairs and play monopoly, which we spend more time arguing about than we do actually playing the game. I feel like such a child today—snowball fights and board games. I haven't done anything like this in so long and I missed feeling light like I did when I was younger, far before when my mom left and things became so complicated.

Eventually we abandon the game, we stretch out on the couch. We've moved past the careful distance we shared the first time I came over. I throw my legs over Edward's lap, stretching my arms over my head. He sighs quietly and props himself up on his elbows.

"So I'm going to be back by New Years," he begins. I wait for him to keep going. "Tyler's having a party. It could be fun. If you want to go…maybe we could go together?"

I look at him skeptically.

"Alice and Jasper are going, too. A lot of people are," he says after a beat of silence, sensing my hesitation.

I smile at him, because he knows what I need. How could I possibly turn him down? How could I even _want_ to?

"I'll go," I say and oh, his smile is dazzling, I feel the heat running through my veins. "Oh and I'm never giving you these clothes back," I tease, snuggling myself in the sweatshirt even further. He laughs softly at me.

"That's okay, they look better on you anyways." I feel my cheeks redden at the sincerity that hides under his playful tone.

"Can I call you? When I'm in Chicago?" he asks.

"It's a free country," I say.

"You're so annoying," he replies but he's grinning, big and wide and all for me.

* * *

"The flight is delayed," Edward groans into the phone. He doesn't even bother saying hello.

"I'm trying to feel bad for you, but you woke me up. It's only six am, Edward."

"I'm not going to apologize for that, you said I could call you."

"Yes, when you're in _Chicago_. Not _Seattle_."

"Fine, I guess I'll just go drown myself in the airport Starbucks' coffee."

"You're so melodramatic, have a safe flight." He grumbles something and hangs up the phone. I fall back asleep almost immediately.

* * *

"I AM OFFICIALLY IN CHICAGO," Edward shouts on the other end of the line. I pull my phone away from my ear and Alice stares at me, eyebrows raised. We've been on my couch all afternoon swooning over _Love Actually_ and _Bridget Jones_.

"I don't think the people in Australia heard you," I say and he laughs. The sound washes over me in a wave of contentment.

"My phone's dying so I can't really talk, just wanted to say hi," he says, it's hard to hear him over the background noise. I assume he's still at the airport.

"Well, hi," I say, smiling.

"Hi, Bella. I'll call you tomorrow," he says and hangs up. Alice is staring at me still, smirking her big, smug smirk. She knows that _something_ is going on with me and Edward, though I keep insisting that we're just friends. Because we are.

Just friends.

* * *

"I got you something today," Edward sings.

"Oh really?"

"Yes and it's incredible, better than diamonds and a new Rolls Royce put together."

"Edward," I say flatly.

"I'm kidding, jeez, it's nothing much I guess. Just thought it was cool."

"I'm sure it is," I assure him. "I have something for you, too." He spends the rest of the conversation asking me what it is until I finally have to hang up on him. I look at the gift-wrapped package on my dresser, feeling satisfied.

* * *

"Woah, wait, are you crying?" Edward says after I answer the phone. It's late here on Christmas day, so I can't imagine what time it is in Chicago. _It's a Wonderful Life_ just ended and my dad's snoring loudly in his chair.

"Yes," I sniffle because _Auld Lang Syne_ just gets me every time they sing it. I explain that to him and he laughs and laughs and laughs.

"Tough-as-nails Bella Swan is crying over a Christmas movie," he gasps. "I just can't believe it."

"I'm not tough," I mutter. "And it's a very moving scene."

"I know it is, I cry every time I see it too," he says.

"Then why are you making fun of me?" I cry as I turn the television off and nudge my dad awake so he can go sleep in his bed. He always wakes up with a stiff neck if he spends the night in that chair.

When I'm upstairs I ask Edward if he had a nice holiday.

"Oh yeah, my grandma made the best dinner and don't even get me _started_ on dessert."

I let his voice lull me to sleep, like he has almost the whole time he's been away. My dad got me a bunch of new books, all ones that I've been wanting, but I don't need one now.

* * *

The day before Edward's supposed to be home, I check the weather between here and Chicago obsessively. There aren't supposed to be any major snow storms but I still worry. And I'm so anxious. Even though we've been talking constantly, I miss him. I do, it's true. I miss seeing him laugh at me and I miss pretending to be annoyed when he eats the last slice of pizza.

"I'll be home tomorrow," he says quietly. I press the phone to my ear harder. It's late, he's falling asleep.

"Good," I reply, feeling heavy at the soft tone of his voice. "I miss you," I whisper so faintly I'm not even sure he can hear me.

"I miss you, too," he says, his voice clearer than mine. More certain of his words.

* * *

"Alice," I cry once I see her coming up the stairs to my room. We're supposed to be leaving for Tyler's party in an hour and she looks fabulous, just a simple black dress and dark tights. I want to disappear in Edward's sweatshirt. I have _nothing_ to wear.

"Dress me," I beg and I think she tears up a little.

"I thought this day would never come." But seriously, there is too much emotion in her voice right now, tears cannot be far behind.

She goes to work, digging through my closet and dresser, making comments to herself and I sit on my bed watching her nervously. She finally settles on a dress I forgot I'd owned. It's red and looks like a big sweater, except it cuts in at my waist, which she emphasizes with a belt she pulls out of her purse. She hands we a pair of tights and black flats.

"I do good work," she muses once I'm all dressed. I let her tame my hair and do my makeup and I feel so pretty. She does do good work.

"Is your _boyfriend_ meeting us there?" I ask and she giggles uncontrollably. Alice and Jasper have been an official, labeled couple for three days now. She reaches for the necklace around her neck—a simple silver chain with a single charm—a silver flower wrapped around a small pearl. A gift from the boyfriend.

"Yes," she laughs. "So we better get a move on."

My heart beats double-time. I'll see Edward in less than twenty minutes.

Not that I'm counting or anything.

Tyler's house is in a nice neighborhood, like Edward's is. It's big and lit up like a Christmas tree by the time we get to his street, though we end up having to park a block over because there are so many people there already.

Alice and I are giddy and breathless, half frozen from the cold as we're walking as fast as we can to Tyler's. It's times like this that make my heart ache for when we won't be together next year. I don't know what I'll do without her.

She checks her phone and shows me a text from Jasper. He and Edward are already inside. They're waiting for us. We walk impossibly faster down the icy sidewalks, laughing and laughing and laughing.

The house is full, people are wandering around and dancing and there's so much happiness and excitement in the air that I feel it expand in my chest, I almost feel it in my lungs.

Because there, in the living room, is Edward Cullen with his hair impossibly messy and a dark button down shirt tucked into those black jeans he always wears. The sleeves are rolled up past his elbows and he is smiling, oh is he smiling because his eyes have found mine and I feel a sound escape my throat.

We reach each other in no time and he pulls me into a hug, his arms circling my back tightly. I'm so surprised by the action that I don't respond right away but I feel so warm and I wrap my arms around his neck. I can't get close enough.

When we break apart he gives me my lopsided grin.

"Wow," he says and I can feel his eyes on me, moving over my dress, my legs. I blush furiously but Edward doesn't let me fall into myself to over-analyze his words. Instead he reaches for my cold hand, it burns against the warmth of his skin, and pulls me over to Alice and Jasper. Something has changed in his demeanor, like he's not holding back anymore, if he ever was at all.

"You wanna play some cards?" Jasper asks and so we find some space in another room to sit and play euchre, which I am terrible at. Edward is my partner and spends most of the game groaning at me. Emmett and Rosalie wander in at some point and talk to us once the game breaks up. Alice and Jasper disappear because Alice is begging him to dance with her and he can't say no—you can see it in the way he looks at her. Emmett is beginning to pull Edward away to go get drinks and to show him some sports related thing Tyler's dad has locked up in a glass case.

"I'll be right back," Edward throws over his shoulder, Emmett already dragging him away. Rosalie is leaning against the wall next to me, bottle of water in her hand, typical bored expression on her face.

"Did you have a nice Christmas?" I ask because I feel like I need to. She smiles at me. Actually smiles.

"Yeah, it was pretty good. You?"

"It was good," I say, trying to not look completely mystified by this exchange. We're quiet again for a few beats before Rosalie speaks again.

"So you and Edward, huh?" I blush, of course.

"Oh, we're just friends," I say, feeling like I'm wearing the phrase out. She laughs quietly, shortly.

"Okay," she says, dragging the word out. I'm bothered by her skepticism.

"What?" I ask, self-consciously.

"I don't know, I mean Edward doesn't really talk to anyone and he never seems to _stop _talking when he's with you. It's weird." It's my turn to laugh now.

"You're kidding right?"

"Nope. I've known him for a few years. He's friendly and all but he's kind of reserved I guess."

"Really," I say, because I don't know what else to do.

"He likes you," she says, her tone definite. She doesn't look at me; she keeps her stare focused straight ahead on the party. I start to sputter an excuse for how that's completely ridiculous but she holds up a hand to stop me but I talk anyways.

"Oh, I don't—" but she cuts me off.

"I'm not trying to make this weird. I like you, Bella. You're cool and you make my friend happy. Don't hold yourself back because you're scared." I gape at her, trying to collect myself because Edward is on his way back over to us with Emmett, laughing loudly like nothing's happened over here in this little corner with me and Rosalie Hale.

"It's almost midnight," he says cheerfully, handing me a can of Coke that I never even asked him for, he just did it, all on his own.

I stare at him, holding this drink in my hand and I am so overcome with emotion that I'm convinced I'm going to start crying over a Coke.

"Everything okay?" he asks, all concerned. His brow wrinkles and locks of hair fall over his forehead as he bends closer to me. I take a shaky breath.

"Yeah, I just need some air I think." So he leads me through the kitchen and out the back doors onto the patio. It's too cold for anyone to be out here, it's mostly dark and the noise from the party is faint.

"Sorry about leaving earlier, I know Rosalie is a little…off putting," he says, laughing. I stare at him and his smile fades. I square my shoulders and I see people inside start to gather, Tyler's holding up a big digital clock. 11:59.

"Rosalie says you like me," I tell him and he freezes for half a second but it doesn't faze him much.

"And?" he challenges.

"Well, do you? Like me?" He takes a step toward me. _Step back,_ my mind screams but I don't. I stay right where I am, just a foot away from him now. I don't know why but Rosalie's words are getting to me. She thinks I'm scared, well I'm not scared. I'm _petrified_ because Edward is too good for me, I know it deep in my soul that he is. If he confirms Rosalie's claims, I won't be able to stop myself, I'll dive headfirst into the hurt because god, he looks at me with those forest eyes and I feel like I'm going to burst out of my own skin. He's staring at me now, his gaze is holding mine with such intensity I can't breathe, and my lungs are bursting from this energy between us. For once in my goddamn life I am going to do something, I'm not going to hide behind my research and my artists, I'm going to take this chance because right now, with this boy moving himself closer to me, it feels worth it.

If he says yes.

And he does.

That word leaves his lips firmly, his voice rising above the countdown being shouted from inside.

Ten seconds to midnight.

Nine, eight, seven, six.

I close the gap between us, his hands move to my neck; they twist themselves in my hair. I tip my head up; my bones are aching for him, his warm breath is on my skin.

The clock inside changes to twelve and everyone is cheering and toasting and Edward is pulling me closer still on this dark patio, my eyes are closing.

His lips touch mine so softly at first but his hands tug at my hair and I press myself to him, the stubble on his face scratching against the smooth skin of my cheek and I need to drown in him, our mouths work faster and more urgently, like we're starving for each other.

When we break apart, he presses his forehead to mine. We're breathing heavily, gasping for air.

"Was that okay?" he asks cautiously and I know he's not talking about his technique.

I'm not sure, but I kiss him again.

And that's enough for now.

* * *

**reviews are always welcomed thank you for reading xoxo**


	9. Chapter 9

**Sincerely sorry that this took so long, I've been drowning in school/work this past week. Thank you to everyone for reading and reviewing, getting those messages have kept me afloat this week. mood music: "the wild hunt" by the tallest man on earth**

* * *

"We should go back inside," Edward sighs.

"I don't want to," I whine quietly.

"You're turning blue," he accuses and I have to admit, I'm freezing out here but I don't want to face the party anymore. I just want to make out with him in the dark for a million more years.

"Edward," I groan as he steers me inside, my legs are numb and his teeth are clattering.

"I'll take you home," he says as we step through the door. People are still going strong, a new buzz reached from the New Year and though the sudden jump in noise level is not welcome, the warmth the house provides is.

Alice finds us, tipsier than she was when I last saw her. She's hanging on Jasper and she's got this goofy grin plastered on her face.

"I love New Year's Eve," she sings and Jasper looks down at her, content.

"Edward's going to take me home," I tell her and I'm not sure if my face is red or if she's honestly just that _good_, but her eyes narrow and her smirk is all-knowing.

"We'll get breakfast tomorrow," she says pointedly.

"Yes, boss," I say and she flicks her hand, dismissing me jokingly, as only Alice can. Edward leads me to the front door, his hand on the small of my back and I brace myself for the cold outside.

It's brutal and we're both shaking so Edward pulls me closer to him and I'm giggling like a maniac because I am so _giddy_ but I might also be freezing to death.

"I'd offer you my coat," Edward says. "but I didn't bring one. I'm really sorry." I laugh even more.

"Edward Cullen is such a gentleman," I say to no one in particular. The streets are dark and the ground is slippery. It's so quiet and the air is so clear. I want to scream into the night about Edward and watch the sound leave my mouth in a cloud of steam.

Instead, I turn into him quickly, almost making both of us lose balance but we manage to stay standing as I pull him into a fast kiss. His arms wrap around my back and we move together roughly and breathlessly before he lifts me off the ground briefly. I can feel him smile against my lips as he sets me down.

"I still can't believe I'm kissing you," he says. "I never thought I'd get to kiss you."

"Shut up, Edward," I laugh, embarrassed even though I feel a pang in my chest, like I could fly away at any moment.

"It's true," he mutters, still grinning.

He kisses me again in his car, once the heat is blasting and we're both so relieved. His hands run up and down my arms and my fingers tangle in his hair. That goddamn hair is standing on end, complete chaos and I'm satisfied knowing that I'm the one who did it.

"You're such a nerd," he says like he knows why I'm so smug.

"Good," is all I can manage because he's kissing me some more.

* * *

Alice is already finished with her eggs benedict while I'm cutting my pancakes up into infinitely smaller pieces, refusing to talk until I've finished eating. She's practically vibrating with energy, so anxious to hear about my night. I'm giving her a hard time because I want to keep Edward to myself for just a little longer, but it's also a lot of fun to mess with her.

"Bella Marie I swear to god," she threatens. I take a small bite of my pancake, dipping it in syrup slowly while batting my eyelashes innocently.

"I can just call Edward and ask," she says haughtily. I raise an eyebrow. "He'll tell me, we have a great rapport."

"I'm sure," I say, sarcasm dripping from my tone. She pulls out her phone and she actually presses the call button next to his name. It rings once before I grab it out of her hand, pressing the end button as fast as I can.

"You're insane," I gasp at her challenging glare. I'm half expecting her to pull a second phone out of her pocket and call him again.

"Go," she commands and I sigh with resignation.

So I relay the events of the night before, starting with my conversation with Rosalie and Alice is dumbfounded. She practically spits her orange juice at me.

"Are you serious? She said that? Oh my god, Bell, who even are you?" I roll my eyes at her.

"Are you going to let me talk or what?" She zips her lips so I can keep going but she ooh's and aw's through my whole story, by the time I'm at the end she's covering her mouth, her eyes so bright I can't take it.

"So he walked me to my door and we were kind of making out and then all of a sudden the porch light goes on—it was traumatizing. Edward practically sprinted back to his car," I laugh. I can see him now, sliding on the icy driveway, throwing me a big grin before he got inside.

"What did Charlie do?" she gasps, her eyes wide but a smile playing at her lips.

"He was standing inside, arms crossed. His face was almost purple. He told me to go to bed. That's all he said. It was so embarrassing but also kind of funny," I say and Alice cackles across from me.

"Poor Charlie," is all she manages.

We laugh for a while longer and Alice tells me about her night, how wonderful Jasper is and how happy he makes her. But I already knew that, I can see it radiating from her skin.

"I think I might sleep with him," she says stirring her drink with her straw.

"What?"

"He hasn't done it either," she says with a shrug. "I love him, anyways."

"Well." I am smiling at her and she is trying to remain cool but she's beaming at her juice.

* * *

"I think I should officially introduce myself to your dad," Edward says firmly. We're sitting in his basement and his hands are ghosting over the skin under the hem of my sweater.

"I think that's the worst idea you've ever had." I'm pulling my fingers through his hair, twisting them up.

"I mean, if I'm going to be around a lot more, we're gonna run into each other eventually, it's better this way. More polite."

"Who says I want you around more?" I tease and he scowls at me, tickling my sides and I squirm under him.

"Stop!" I shriek.

"Only if you let me meet your dad," he says, his fingers working faster. I can't breathe I'm laughing so hard.

"Fine! Fine fine fine! You can meet my dad, stop!" I beg and he finally lets up, I gasp for air and he's grinning so smugly at me I want to punch that smirk off his face.

"When?" I sigh.

"Friday, when I take you out."

"Oh, you're taking me out?" I raise an eyebrow at him, his confidence falters for a moment.

"Unless you're busy?" His uncertainty makes me laugh.

"I don't know," I say breezily. "I have a pretty full social calendar. Other boys are trying to court me and all."

"Bella," he says sternly.

"Fine, pick me up at six."

* * *

On Friday I'm trying to read one of the books my dad got me for Christmas, a history of the Louvre. Edward is due to be here at any minute and I'm sitting in the kitchen trying not to pace. Charlie is frowning at the television in the next room, dreading this meeting as much as I am.

When I'd told him I had a date tonight, his eyes immediately darted to his gun holster, hanging up beside the front door.

"Dad," I'd warned. "He wants to meet you."

"He does," he'd said, uncertainly. "Is he worth meeting?"

"I, um, I think so." He nodded brusquely and that was kind of the end of it.

I check my phone for the hundredth time in the last two minutes. Edward told me he'd text me when he was on his way. That was a whole five minutes ago.

The doorbell rings and I feel like I'm going to vomit.

"I'll get it!" I call and Charlie continues to grimace. When I open the door, Edward is grinning at me, hands in his pockets and his hair tamed more than I'm used to.

"Your confidence is unnerving," I say quietly.

"Parents love me."

"I bet," I mutter under my breath, letting him in. My dad's gotten up and moved his way into the foyer, arms crossed and eyes narrowed at Edward. I hold my breath.

"Hi, Chief Swan. I'm Edward Cullen. It's nice to meet you," he says politely, holding his hand out for Charlie to shake. He does quickly and firmly.

"Your dad works at the hospital?" he asks gruffly.

"Yes sir."

"He's a good man."

"Thank you, sir." There's a burst of noise from the television and both men turn their attention towards the living room.

"The Seahawks are looking good this year," Edward says and Charlie nods.

"Hoping for another Super Bowl," my dad says and I see the corners of his mouth twitch up, just barely. I can't believe it but I don't want to push our luck.

"We'll be back later," I say, slowly backing us up towards the front door.

"Home by eleven," Charlie says, his frown is back.

"Bye, dad," I groan and we're out the door, we're free.

"I like him," Edward says brightly once we're in the car. I look at him warily. "What? I do. I think that went well!"

"Wait til he sees your hair when it's not combed," I say, messing with his radio.

"I always comb my hair," he cries defensively, but he's smiling.

"My dad doesn't like liars," I say smugly and Edward sighs next to me.

* * *

We end up at a Mexican restaurant in Port Angeles, where Edward orders chips and guacamole, chips and queso and chips and salsa. We are drowning in tortilla chips and empty Coke bottles.

"They have the best fish tacos," Edward is saying and I'm laughing at him, my mouth full of guac.

"I don't know if I can eat anything else," I groan.

"You _have_ to," Edward says. "They're the _best_. I'm getting them. You can have one of mine."

So we share fish tacos and take three to go boxes of chips with us when we're done.

* * *

"What happened to dinner and a movie?" I cry, anxiety washing over as Edward pulls me into the building.

"That is so boring. Why are you so afraid of this? It's only bowling."

"I'm going to kill myself somehow. Or you. Or some unsuspecting kid."

"Bella, it's bowling."

"Well aware of that Edward." I grimace.

"Then what do you want to do?" he says, folding his arms over his chest. I'm expecting to see him annoyed at me but I can see the amusement flashing in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," I say and I genuinely mean it. "I feel like I've been a total asshole to you. Let's go bowling."

"Nope, too late," he sings. "We're going to the movies and you're going to pick what we see and I'm going to try to make out with you at least twice."

"I'm going to pick a terrible rom-com," I warn. He kisses me quickly and pulls me back to the car.

* * *

**not a ton of action and not very long, but i hope you liked it. but it's cool if you hated it too. let me know in a review? next chapter should hopefully be up before next weekend. thank you for reading xoxo**


	10. Chapter 10

**thank you to everyone who is reading and especially to those that reviewed the last chapter, you're all the best. seriously. **

**This story was featured as a clue for TwiFicTrivia ( just4TFT) on twitter so that was pretty awesome.  
**

**music: boom clap by charli xcx**

**anyways.**

* * *

**Chapter 10**

"I did _not_ lose my virginity on Valentine's Day. That's literally the most cliché thing I can think of."

"It was just a question, Alice, don't give me that look."

"We're just waiting for the right time."

"As in when your mom isn't home yelling at you to keep the door open?"

"Shut up. How was your night with Edward? He was so excited when I talked to him in English yesterday."

"It was good, he tried to make me dinner but I ended up stepping in because I'm pretty sure if I hadn't, he would have burned my house down." I smile at the memory. He rang my doorbell right after Charlie had left for his shift and I found him grinning on my doorstep, wearing a nice button up shirt tucked into those black pants he always wears.

"I'm making you chicken piccata," he'd proclaimed proudly, holding up a full grocery bag, which swung forward and almost hit me in the face.

He wouldn't let me help at first but eventually I learned that he was all thumbs when it came to cooking. I'd found the one thing Edward wasn't amazing at and it was really satisfying to bump him out of the way and show him a thing or two.

"You're amazing," he'd sighed into my shoulder as I coated the chicken in flour.

"You're distracting," I'd told him, laughing.

"Yeah, well." I kissed him then, like I had often over the last month and half. We'd fallen into each other so easily.

So easily that I have to make myself take a step back, take a day not to not answer my phone even when I'm desperate to talk to him because I'm not sure how I'm supposed to proceed. I haven't added anyone in my life in so long, I'm so scared of him because he is so unconditionally kind and understanding of me, it's almost too good to be true. So I kiss him as I cook us dinner and I let his hands work their way under my shirt as he whispers sweetly in my ear but I am ready for it to all go away. It's inevitable, it will come, I'm just not sure when.

"Where'd you go?" Alice is asking me now, waving a hand in front of my face. I blink, suddenly pulled back into the moment. We're lying on the floor of my bedroom, she's painting my toenails blue and I'm supposed to be quizzing her for history.

"Sorry," I say quickly and she throws me a concerned stare.

"You hear back from anywhere yet?" I ask because I get the feeling she's about to talk to me expressing our feelings.

"Not yet, have you?"

"Nope," I say and that's kind of the end of it.

My dad comes home a little later with two bags of Chinese takeout and I convince Alice to stay. He's been acting weird the last couple of months, and I can't say it's because Edward's been hanging around. He and Charlie have been getting along pretty well, they talk sports and camping and my dad's yet to find Edward with his hands up my shirt, so he hasn't chased him from the house yet.

But Charlie's been quieter than he usually is, more on edge and overly nice to me- heavy on the compliments, pretending to be interested in my research projects and giving me a hug every so often.

It's really throwing me off and every time I ask him about it, he sputters some excuse about work.

So now the three of us are sitting at the kitchen table and I notice that one of the bulbs in the light above us has gone out so it seems dimmer than usual. Alice is spinning lo mein noodles on her fork, asking Charlie about his day while I stuff my mouth with rice, watching the interaction nervously.

"Bella says you've been really stressed about work," Alice says and my dad's eyes widen for just a second before he composes himself.

"Yeah, uh just some uh stuff going on," he manages and Alice gives me a look out of the corner of her eye. "The game's starting so I'm gonna…" he trails off, moving himself and his plate to the couch. He's better at avoiding confrontation than I am.

"I see what you mean," Alice mutters.

"Right? It's actually freaking me out."

"Maybe there's a serial killer on the loose. Maybe it's actually about work," she offers. I roll my eyes dramatically while the television blares from the next room.

* * *

It's a Saturday morning; Edward's just gotten to my house waving an envelope in front my face. I'm still in my pajamas and my hair is a rats nest but I've thankfully brushed my teeth.

"What are you doing here?" I ask but I can't fight the smile working its way onto my face. His joy is buzzing off of him like electricity.

"I got something from the School of Visual Arts!" he says, stepping past me and into the foyer, unwrapping his scarf from his neck and tossing it at me.

"In New York?" I ask, throwing it back at him.

"Yes! I didn't want to open it alone." I smile softly at him, flattered he picked me.

"Well open it!"

"Okay okay okay. Do you have coffee? I need coffee."

"Edward I seriously doubt you need coffee but okay."

So once I've got coffee poured into two mismatched mugs and Edward is sitting across from me, spooning sugar and cream into his coffee and grimacing at my own drink—black is the only way I like it—he finally clears his throat, holding the envelope out in front of him.

"Can I get a drumroll please?"

"Just open it," I grumble, but I'm so amused by this ridiculous boy.

"I need a drumroll, Bell. This is so important." I know that he won't move on until I do what he asks so I tap my fingers on the edge of the table rapidly and he grins like I've just found the cure for cancer.

He tears the envelope open and starts scanning the paper inside, I can't see his expression until he lowers it, and oh, his eyes are shining, I know I'm done for.

"I got in," he says quietly.

"You got in," I echo, making my voice louder than his, grinning as broad as my mouth would stretch. I stand up throwing my arms around him and he pulls me up, his arms circling my waist.

"Are you gonna go?" I ask, my lips pressed to his neck.

"Not sure, haven't heard back from anyone else yet."

"We should go out for celebratory lunch," I say as cheerfully as I can manage. My heart is sinking. New York is so far away. He kisses me on the cheek and sets me down.

"I have to get dressed, come on," I say and he follows me up the stairs and to my room—which he's never been inside of before.

"Nice poster," he says and I know he's talking about the one above my bed because he got it for me for Christmas. It's from a Picasso exhibit, one that the Art Institute in Chicago put on. I'd given him an exceptionally sloppy Paint-by-Numbers of his favorite painting, the Manet one. He'd laughed and laughed, but told me he'd hang it up in his room.

He looks around as I grab some clothes from my dresser, pausing at my bookshelf and the pile next to it.

"Wow," he says, giving the collection a low whistle.

"I like books," I say before I steal away to the bathroom to change. I spend too much time brushing my hair and looking in the mirror, lost in thought over him leaving. It's already hurting me so much now, who knows what will happen in a few months when he runs away to the other end of the country. How can I keep going with this? How can I not?

I try to picture a time when I won't see him grinning at me like I'm made of starlight and when I won't hear him laughing at me when I'm annoyed or how he holds me close when I'm having a bad day, letting me fall into one of my books and doesn't press too much. I feel like I'm collapsing in on myself at the thought.

When I finally make myself go back to my room, Edward's at my dresser, turning the little ceramic pot on my dresser over, looking at the little inscription on the bottom.

"Who's Renee?" he asks, and he sounds genuinely curious about it. I feel my face grow hot.

"My, uh, my mom," I stammer. Edwards sets the pot down and I see panic flash briefly in his eyes, but it vanishes as quickly as it comes. He squares his shoulders, set his mouth in a line.

This can't be good.

"I get it now," he says.

"Get what?" I ask quietly, twisting my hands together. Edward's usually good at sensing my discomfort and backing off but it doesn't seem like he'll do that now.

"The art thing. Keeps you close to your mom," he says, his voice small but confident. I wish the floor would swallow me whole and I stay quiet. He moves closer to me, his arms pulling me to him.

"I'm sorry if I've upset you, it just…I'm just trying to understand…I have no idea what's going on in your head. You have to let me in sometime, Bella." His voice gets impossibly rougher and I feel emotion rise in my throat, words are tumbling from my lips.

"It w-was supposed to help, it helped a-at first, I just didn't know w-why she'd leave. Now I can't stop, it's killing me, but it's all I have. It's all I have." I'm trying not to cry, my eyes are burning and Edward is holding me closer and closer.

"You think it's mine, this art but it's not. It's all her," I tell him and it's like I can't stop. I've never said any of this to anyone, not even Alice. Edward pushes away from me so he can look at me, his forest eyes staring at me in such earnestness I can't breathe.

"Bella." I know he's gearing up to throw a famous pep talk at me but I can't right now, I've spoken and my chest is lighter. It's good, it's a small relief.

"Edward," I sigh. "Let's just go to lunch. I'm starving." His skeptical look makes me roll my eyes. "I'm okay, I promise. Thank you for listening."

"If you're sure," he says and I pull him downstairs.

"I got into your room and I didn't even get to make out with you," he mutters and I shove him playfully.

"We should fix that then," I raise my eyebrows suggestively and he grabs me, carrying me upstairs as I'm shrieking the whole way up. He lays me down on my bed and kisses me hard and I feel like I'm floating away, my hands feeling his cheekbones and his jaw, the hard lines and the stubble are rough under my touch.

"Jesus your hands are freezing," he laughs. "Here." He takes my hands and puts them under his sweatshirt, placing them on the warm softness of his abdomen. He shivers once but keeps them there. I smile and kiss him gently.

"You're too nice to me," I tell him and I hope it sounds as honest as I mean it to be.

"You deserve it," he says with zero hesitation and I feel that lump in my throat again, because I'm not sure what I did to deserve such a thing as Edward Cullen.

* * *

We eventually make it to the Spartan and end up meeting Alice and Jasper there. They come in looking like they're in the middle of an argument. Alice has her arms crossed and she's got that look in her eye that says you better not mess with her. Jasper just looks exasperated, running his hand through his hair, which has grown even longer; it falls past his ears now.

Edward sighs next to me and as they get closer, I can hear what Alice is saying.

"I'm just saying, Jas, there is no way the South could have won that battle, even with different leadership, I seriously don't care what you say. This conversation is over."

"But Alice, all I'm trying to point out is that—" Alice cuts him off, holding her hand up at him before she slides into the booth.

"Sorry, we're late," she says, smiling warmly at us.

Edward and I just stare at them before bursting into laughter.

"What?" Jasper asks, irritated.

"Nothing," I say but I'm still laughing.

"I just think—"

"Jasper say one more word and I will kill you," she says and he gives her a look. She gives him a quick peck on the cheek and his eyes soften ever so slightly.

Edward squeezes my hand under the table. I squeeze his back and he smiles big and real at me, Alice is looking on so purely happy that my heart is swelling with it all.

We eat lunch and joke with each other about nothing in particular. Jasper and I talk about this concert in Seattle in a few weeks that we both want to go to and soon we're all talking about taking a road trip to see them. Jasper tries to talk more about the Civil War (which is because they'd just watched a documentary about it before they came and he's kind of obsessing over it) and Alice shouts about preservation of the union and I laugh and laugh and laugh.

I tell them the only way to settle their argument is to all watch it and let Edward and I decide for them so we go back to my house because it's closest and my dad won't be home until late.

Edward holds my hand the whole drive home and I sing along to the radio. We beat Alice and Jasper there and when we get to the front door, I let go of Edward's hand because there's a small package propped up against the front door. I lift it up; it's addressed to me, which is surprising because I didn't order anything, which I say out loud after a moment of silence.

"Maybe Charlie ordered you something," Alice offers as she and Jasper make their way over to us.

"I doubt it," I laugh and we go inside, stripping off our winter layers before we all settle around the couch. Jasper is looking for the movie on Netflix and I'm peeling the box open and digging through the packing peanuts to find what's inside.

I feel my breath catch when I find it.

A little ceramic dish, fired with deep blue glaze.

There's a note inside, also addressed to me.

I check the bottom of the dish and Renee's name is carved into the center.

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**oh mannnn. if you get a moment, please review- i check my email obsessively for them. next chapter should _hopefully_ be up soon.  
**

**thank you for reading xoxo**


	11. Chapter 11

**thank you for sticking with me this long and a big thank you to those who review, your words drive me to do my best. **

**music: teen rocket by tigers jaw**

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**Chapter 11**

I nearly drop it, almost letting it shatter into a million little pieces on the floor. I wanted to, really, but I just kept staring at the deep blue shining off the surface, the neat, subtle lines her fingers made from throwing it on the wheel.

She'd made this at her home, her new home and here it was, in my hands, right where she left me. I feel Edward's hand tentatively touch the small of my back, a tiny gesture of support, the warmth of his hand breaks me out of this trance I feel like I've fallen into. Jasper is looking extremely confused and uncomfortable and I don't blame him. Alice has her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide like I'm about to explode right here in my living room and Edward…Edward is looking at me earnestly, so steady and _here_ that I can take a deep breath.

"Bella," Alice says slowly, making her way over to me. I stare at her.

"I don't want it," I say as clearly as I can. And I don't, I feel like I've finally at least begun moving on from her, I'm finally keeping my head above water, maybe even swimming to shore, but if I open this note there's no recovering.

"Are you—" Alice begins but I cut her off.

"I don't want it," I say and it's supposed to be firm but my voice cracks.

"Maybe it'd be good, to see what she has to say," Edward says softly from beside me. Alice cuts her eyes at him.

"Edward this isn't really…" but she trails off because she's back too looking nervously at me with her big, gray eyes.

"Maybe you guys should go," I say my stare finding its way back to the ceramic bowl, the carefully folded note.

"I'm not going anywhere," Alice says incredulously.

"Alice, let's go," Edward says and his hand is off my back, a coldness spreads over me instead as I watch him pull everyone to the door. I can see it in the way the lines in his forehead deepen and by the grimace he's trying to fight off that he doesn't want to leave. But he knows me, he knows what I need right now.

"I'll be calling you!" Alice calls as Edward gets her outside, closing the door behind him with one last meaningful look, one that I feel in my bones that tells me _you are strong_.

The house is so quiet now, so empty and dark from the overcast skies outside. I don't know how long I stand there, contemplating but finally I take a seat on the couch, curling my legs under me and I stare at the package some more, my name on the note in loopy script. I take a deep breath and try to ignore my shaking hands as I unfold it, to find the same handwriting inside. It's a short letter and she starts with my name, written again, large at the top and I feel this pang in my chest thinking that she's written my name, she's thought my name.

_I'm sorry it's taken me so long to do this,_ she writes, _but I've done a lot of thinking, a lot has happened and I'm so sorry it ended the way it did. _

_I should have tried to reach out to you sooner, to explain myself but I didn't know how. I know you probably hate me but my phone number is written at the bottom of this note, and I don't expect you to want to call me but if you change your mind, if you want to get in touch, I'll be around, I'll be waiting. _

_I miss you; I've missed you the whole time I've been away. _

And I have to stop because she's signed the note Love, Mom and it feels so _wrong_ to me. There's something about this whole situation that is making my skin itch, my stomach turn and I feel like I'm going to get sick but I don't, I don't move from my spot on the couch, I just keep reading the note over and over and over until I know it by heart.

It's almost as if this is a dream, that it's not actually happening because why else would my mom try to get in contact with me after six years of absolute silence?

The front door opens and I jump. It's starting to get dark outside now, I can see the gray sky around my dad as he comes inside, hanging his coat and belt up on the hooks on the wall next to him. He jumps a little when he sees me.

"Bella? Why are you sitting in the dark?" He flips the light switch and the room is bathed in light, packing peanuts all over the floor and wrapped around myself clutching a small piece of paper, the ceramic bowl is sitting on the end of the couch between us. His eyes dart to me to the bowl and then to me again.

His face kind of crumples and he lets out a long sigh.

"I told her not to do this," he says and he sits down in his recliner, turning to face me.

"What?" I hear come from my own mouth. My throat is dry, my voice is garbled from not speaking to anyone in so long. "You've been talking to her?"

Charlie sighs again and I take in the lines on his face, how _tired_ he looks in this moment.

"She called me at the station a few months ago, she's been calling every so often. Asking about you, wanting to come see you. But I told her to wait, at least a while. You were doing so much better. I didn't want to...wreck that." He grimaces at the bowl. "But of _course_ she couldn't wait. It's whatever Renee wants, always." The tone of his voice surprises me, it's so distasteful. It's not like we talked about my mom a lot before but when we did, he was so neutral, indifferent about her. His anger feels like it's coming out of nowhere but then I think maybe, he's been keeping his cool about everything for my sake. At least trying to. I feel tears stinging in my eyes and I try to blink them back, to keep my voice steady.

"She wants…she wants me to call her." I can't take the pity in his eyes.

"I just want you to do whatever you want," he says. "If you want to call her, call her but Bella? You don't owe her anything right now." He stands up and makes his way over to me, squeezing my shoulder and telling me he loves me before he goes off in search of something to make us for dinner.

I sit for a few more moments, trying to make sense of something, anything but I know what I have to do, and I can feel it sitting heavily in my chest. I take the note and I grab my phone from the coffee table and go upstairs quietly and lock myself in my room. I just have one new message, from Edward and it was sent hours ago.

_I'm here if you need me_.

I feel emotion close my throat but I clear the message and dial the number. It rings only once.

"Bella? Oh my god, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Alice," I say, staring at the note for the 900th time.

"What did it say? What are you going to do?" I read her what it says, my eyes moving quickly over Renee's script and I can almost _hear_ Alice thinking on the other line.

"I think you should call her," she says. "Get some closure."

"But what if it makes everything worse?" I say softly.

"What if it doesn't?"

"I'll think about it," I tell her and I say goodbye, telling her I need to call Edward. He answers on the first ring, too.

"I'm coming over," he says and then he's gone and less than ten minutes later, he's standing in my doorway.

"Does my dad know you're up here?" I say, raising my eyebrows.

"He sent me up here," he replies and then he's wrapping himself around me. I exhale deeply before telling him everything, and he listens, he doesn't say a word until I'm done talking, and by the time I'm finished I don't want to say another word ever again. I want to sit quietly and look at him, just disappear in this little bubble.

"You could always just go see her," he says finally. "I'm sure there's a return address on that package. Just go see her, spy on her a little, then decide what you want to do?"

I consider this because it feels like it would work, I'd get to be in total control of everything. If I change my mind, I won't have opened a door with her. I can just look in through a window.

"I don't have a car," I sigh.

"I do," he says and I knit my eyebrows together.

"I can't ask you to do that."

"You're not asking, I'm offering."

"Edward…"

"Bella, this is your chance to end this, but if you don't want to, don't. It's up to you."

He's trying to stay neutral but I know he wants me to go. I bite my lip and I think about his plan, the plan that's so ridiculous but so…perfect.

"When?" I ask.

"Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?!" I shriek with panic and he laughs.

"Like ripping a band aid off."

"We don't even know where she lives, she could be in Florida for all we know." Edward gets up and leaves the room but he's back in less than a minute, holding the box we found on my doorstep earlier today.

"She lives in Vancouver," Edward says and he's already plugging the address into his phone. "It's only a few hours away."

"Oh," I say and my stomach turns over.

"If you don't want to go, I don't want to make you do something you don't want to do."

"No…no I want to go," I say quietly and we make the plans. We're leaving in the morning, after my dad's left for the day to help his friend Mr. Clearwater move. It's all set, it's happening but I still find myself rushing to the bathroom, dry heaving with nerves as soon as Edward leaves my house.

* * *

I greet Edward at the front door the next morning but I can't match his cheer. I didn't sleep at all and no matter how much concealer I put on, the dark circles under my eyes are still shining purple and blue.

"I made four mix CDs and I bought us coffee and doughnuts and the car is already warmed up. Are you ready?" I try to disappear deeper in the sweatshirt Edward had given me so long ago and he sighs, pulling me to him.

"It'll be okay," he says gently and we're going to the car, the heat on low and he turns the music up louder, someone singing about how it's hard to let you in and we're pulling away from my street. Edward hands me a doughnut and nods to the to-go mug of coffee sitting in the cup holder next to me, though I feel like I'll be sick if I put anything in my stomach.

We don't talk for a long time, Edward sings softly along to the music and I'm staring at the trees we're passing, biting my nails and trying not to think about Renee but I find myself wondering about her now.

I wonder how she looks, if she's aged, if she's changed her hair color or her style and I wonder where she lives and if she lives with anyone.

I feel the threat of tears upon me and I grab Edward's warm hand next to me and I ask him a question about the music, he smiles at me and I eventually calm down enough to fall asleep, warm but my chest feeling heavier than it ever has.

* * *

"We're almost there," Edward says and I jerk awake, my eyes finding their way to the GPS on the dashboard. Two miles away. It looks like Renee lives in a nice part of town, a suburb that looks like it's full of families as evidenced by the amount of kids I see riding their bikes up and down the streets.

It's not at all how I'd pictured her life now, so suburban and _normal_. I've always seen her in a big city somewhere, just another anonymous woman in a coffee shop or wandering art galleries in the chic urban streets.

Not on Freedom Ridge Avenue in a newer looking subdivision, the houses all with fenced in backyards and trees beginning to grow tall in the front yards. Edward pulls to a stop across the street from the house that has her address. It's a small one story, kind of rectangular with dark blue siding and white shutters to match the white front door and white fence that lines the property.

"Breathe, Bella," Edward says softly and I let go of the breath I didn't realize I've been holding. We sit there for what seems like hours and I just get more anxious with every passing minute until-

"There's someone there," I gasp and we watch someone run through the backyard, turning around and grinning at something hidden by the house. It's a young boy, probably eight or nine years old and he's laughing now and suddenly my mom is there, walking in the yard towards him. Her hair is longer, straighter and she's wearing a big winter coat smiling so largely it hits me so hard I feel my throat tighten. The two of them talk and laugh and an SUV pulls into the driveway, a man steps out and Renee and the boy turn towards him as he makes his way over to them. He pulls my mom into a kiss and the boy pretends to look disgusted so she grabs him and squeezes him into a hug, all of them laughing and looking so happy.

I watch her, how effortless every move she makes is, how she's hardly aged at all. The way she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and ruffles the boy's hair, and all I can think of is how she wasn't like that with me, not towards the end. Not even in the middle. I only have vague memories of feeling loved by her, the rest felt like I was only being tolerated, dragged along places because there was nothing else to do with me.

I don't remember getting smiles like that.

I feel so thrown away, more so than ever before because it wasn't like family life wasn't her thing; it was just our family she didn't want to deal with. It was just me that wasn't good enough to keep her there.

"Let's go," I whisper and I don't turn to look at Edward but I hear him draw in a breath and turn the car back on.

I don't start crying until we get on the highway and as soon as we hit the exit it comes out of me like a dam has broken. I feel the sobs move through my chest, like I'm being ripped open and Edward starts to pull over but I scream for him to keep going, to get me far away from here. When I finally look at him, his eyes are wide with panic, his eyebrows drawn together and his gaze keeps shifting rapidly from the road to me and he's got his hand on my thigh, trying to make contact to calm me down, but I can't, not until we've been driving for at least an hour. I'm just hiccuping and trying to not hyperventilate and Edward takes an exit and goes through a drive thru to get me some water.

I haven't spoken to him yet, though every so often he'll try to say something soothing to me. My mind is running on a loop _I'm not good enough I'm not good enough I'm not good enough_. And I look at the boy next to me, with his ink stained hands and his evergreen eyes and his very being is so kind and beautiful and I feel myself break apart all over again because he's going to leave, he's going to drop me because if my own mother can't love me, how can Edward Cullen? How can he see anything at all in me?

We're almost home, I can see my house in the distance and I need to make this stop, I need to make it all stop before it gets too far.

"Edward," I say, my voice hoarse. "I don't think we should see each other anymore."

He stops the car too abruptly in my driveway and throws it in park, turning to me, his eyes so wild.

"What? I'm sorry I pushed the thing with your mom , I thought it would help."

"It's not about my mom, not really," I say. "It's about us…I just don't think this is going to work out, I just can't do this anymore."

"Bella," he sighs and I nearly collapse at the emotion in his voice. "I just don't understand, things are going so well. I know the thing with your mom was awful but that isn't us."

"They-they are," I hiccup and his eyebrows knit together. "It's just so complicated."

"No it isn't," he says, his voice firm. "You either want to be with me or you don't. I know today was hard for you; I want to be there for you. I want to help. Let me in, Bella." I feel the tears come again and I need to get out of the car before I change my mind.

"This is what I want, don't make this harder than it needs to be. We haven't… we haven't been together that long, this thing between us wasn't serious." I can feel the lie burning deep in my gut. It's true about the time but I know that this was more than some casual fling, it runs hot in my blood and that's why I need him to go.

Edward stares at me.

"Don't downplay how I feel for you, how much this has meant to me," he says.

"I'm sorry," I say and I push the door open but he starts to protest.

"I'm done, Edward, just let me go." And he does. I don't turn around as he pulls out of the driveway, I go up to my room and I let the sobs come back to me, I let the despair hit me with open arms because I want to live in it, it's a feeling all my own and it's pushing energy into my bones, just a quick burst that lasts long enough to take the blue glazed dish from my dresser and smash it as hard as I can on the wood floor, watching it shatter and splinter and I know it can never be whole again.

It can never be put back together.

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**so yeah, that happened. thank you for reading, i'd love to hear your thoughts xx**


	12. Chapter 12

**hi this is super short, but there's a reason. thank you for reading and for reviewing, I love you all. sorry if the last chapter upset you xo**

**music: homesick by sleeping at last**

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**Chapter 12**

When an acceptance letter from Northwestern University comes a week later, my dad takes me and Alice out to dinner in Port Angeles. It's a nice Italian restaurant with deep red walls and Charlie is so excited, praising us on our accomplishments because Alice received notice of her acceptance to New York University two days before. I order ravioli and try to ignore the empty fourth chair at the table because I know it was meant for Edward, his absence hits me heavily over and over again. Charlie was confused when I told him he wasn't coming and Alice had pulled him aside to let him know we'd broken up as I moved into the hallway to put my coat on. I could hear the disdainful tone of her voice, but not what exactly she'd been saying, but she'd been telling me all week that I was being ridiculous, though she was doing it as kindly as possible. She's back to treating me like I'm made of glass but I know that it's only temporary, she isn't one to pity me.

And I'm grateful for that, usually. Right now though, I'm not in the mood to hear lectures about letting go and fixing things with Edward because she doesn't understand the pain that swells in my chest every time I think about him. I want him, I do but I'm terrified of that wanting, that need for another person and I can't bring myself to just _get over it_. My fears are probably entirely unfounded but the feelings are so real to me, the panic and the hurt are things I can't avoid and I feel them trample every thought of want I have.

He'd showed up at my house the Monday after everything had happened because I wasn't in school (I told my dad I wasn't feeling well, he still doesn't know I went to see her) and he was worried—at least that's what Alice told me. I didn't answer; I put my pillow over my head and tried to not hear his persistence with every knock on the door.

On Tuesday I saw him in the cafeteria as I was bringing my lunch to my usual table when I saw him sit down across from Alice. We made eye contact and I felt my breath catch in my throat because he looked like he was a mess, his hair was impossibly wild, dark circles under his eyes and I wanted to cry because I knew it was my fault. His eyes found mine and there was no smile, his lips just parted like he let out a big _whoosh_ of air and I dumped my tray in the trashcan nearest to me and hid in the library until the period was over, trying to calm my breathing down.

I got to independent study early that day, sitting at a far table, nowhere near my usual seat. He came in and he looked like I'd slapped him. I felt myself recoil, letting my hair fall around my face like a curtain. I heard his backpack get tossed on the table across from me and he was there, a hurricane of a person that I needed to stay away from because oh god, it hurt to look at him now. Even though I wanted to fold into him, let his arms wrap themselves around me, there was too much pain now, there was no going back.

"I'm not going to change my mind, Edward," I'd said quietly and his eyes were so sad in their determination. "You deserve someone better than me, someone who wouldn't even think of doing this to you."

"I don't want anyone else," he'd said and his voice was hoarse and I felt it vibrate in my bones.

"Just leave me alone, please," I told him, desperation leaking into my tone. "I can't do it anymore, I don't want to do it anymore, can't you see that? It's too much, you and I are too much, it's so complicated." I was babbling and maybe I was being cruel to him, but it seemed like it was the only way.

Mrs. Cope walked in at that moment, and he took his stuff and walked out right out of the room.

He didn't come back to that class all week, Mrs. Cope said he'd taken an early release instead and she asked what my next project was going to be, her brow furrowed. I told her I didn't know, and I honestly didn't—I'd been unable to think about art at all over the last few days, the books on my shelves made me sick to my stomach.

But Mrs. Cope could see I was upset, so she left me alone for the week, I drew flowers on a piece of notebook paper and tried to not feel anything at all.

That was impossible, of course, because I'd see Edward across the lunchroom, looking miserable—he was back to his old table, much to Jessica's joy. She'd spent the last few months sending me death glares and trying to start rumors about me, which Rosalie always killed quickly but now, Rose won't even look at me. She's back to ignoring my existence.

I feel Edward's eyes on me at lunch all the time, like he can't help it and I'm trying to not constantly think about Renee and her new life, that suddenly feels so close to me—too close.

It's almost as like the thought of being near her now is suffocating, I need to leave, I need to get out.

So after dinner with Alice and my dad, I go home and Charlie pays the deposit for me.

By the end of August, I'll be in Chicago.

* * *

Mrs. Cope is yelling at me. Well, not really yelling at me, but she's speaking sternly to me which is basically screaming by her standards.

"It's been a month, Bella and you haven't turned in anything. You're not even working on anything, what gives? Don't you want this credit? It'll help so much with college, you'll have such a head start."

"I don't know if I want to do something with art anymore," I say softly, because it's true. I don't find comfort in it anymore, the thought of those works and those artists is too much for me to bear, it feels like it's all been a lie, like it's never been mine and I was just holding onto it because of my mom. I feel lied to, like Monet's just been mocking me with his paintings of water lilies.

But I miss it, sure, because those artists were like my family for so long. They stayed up late with me, they calmed my fears and taught me lessons and showed me important things about the world and its inhabitants.

"I want an essay about why art is important, one-thousand word minimum due in two weeks."

I just nod; the energy to fight her on it is something I don't have anymore. I've been so apathetic and tired lately, Alice is the only one I can stand to be around though she's sick of my "moping."

I don't write the essay, I tell Mrs. Cope I'm focusing on memorizing dates and movements because the logistics aren't as hard to deal with.

She tells me if I want to pass the class, the essay needs to be done by the time I graduate.

I kind of ignore her.

* * *

On a Wednesday in April, I get in the lunch line next to Edward. It's an accident; I'm not paying attention because Alice is talking my ear off about prom. I'm not going, of course, but that doesn't stop her from trying to convince me every moment she gets.

Edward looks quickly at me and then looks away, turning his body so he doesn't have to notice me. I don't feel his eyes on me as much anymore, he's getting over me, just like I knew he would but it's still awkward for him to be near me.

It just makes my heart beat too fast, like it always had when I was near him. I wonder if that will ever change, if some part of me will always want him. I hope not.

I'd like to say it's gotten easier without him but it hasn't. When I'm trying to fall asleep at night, memories and thoughts of him will crash over me, and I drown in them, my chest aching and I feel so tired, but I can't sleep anymore. I don't have my books to keep me occupied like I used to, I can't bear them. So I'm left alone in my room, still wearing Edward's sweatshirt and trying to convince myself that he isn't there anymore.

Alice says hi to him and he turns back around, to smile warmly at her. His eyes flicker over to mine for just a second and my cheeks burn red. Of course he and Alice are still friends; I don't know why that's so surprising to me.

He doesn't say hi to me, but I alternate between watching him and staring at the floor while Alice talks to him about something I can't focus on because Edward looks so good, not wild and desperate and sad. His eyes are brighter, his hands stained with paint and ink and I mourn the fact that I never saw any of his work. I probably never will.

Once he gets his food, he walks easily in the direction of his table and I wonder if he ever felt this loss when I told him to leave me alone, if he ever really did feel this strongly for me because the more distance he puts between us the less I can breathe and I wouldn't wish this feeling on anyone.

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**Next chapter should be up tomorrow! i'd love to hear your thoughts, thanks for sticking with me through the rough patches xx  
**


	13. Chapter 13

**please don't hate me, so many of you are so upset and i'm so sorry! hopefully this chapter helps a little. **

**music: 28th & NE Davis by Joel P West**

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**Chapter 13**

The third week of May is busy; my art history exam for college credit is this upcoming Monday so I'm planning on spending prom weekend reviewing, just as an excuse to skip the prom, which Alice is still pushing. She's upset that I won't go, but I'm going over to her house to help her get ready. The weather's nice enough to ride my bike and it's refreshing, this feeling of _going_. I wonder if going to Chicago will feel the same and it gives me a little bit of hope, like there's this light at the end of the tunnel.

Alice has let her hair grow out some, so I watch her give herself a sleek Louise Brooks bob and put on her gold dress, covered in intricate bead-work and she really does look like a 1920s princess. I sigh over how cute she and Jasper are with her mom as they take pictures together in the living room, and I tell Alice I want to hear all about it when it's over. She blushes because she knows I'm not talking about the dance. Apparently Jasper has planned a _very_ romantic evening.

I kiss her cheek and Jasper gives me a one armed hug as he opens the car door for her.

"Let us know if you need anything, Bella," Jasper says kindly. He's been really nice to me the last few months and I appreciate it because I expected him to hate me after Edward ad I broke up. Maybe he just feels bad for me.

"Have fun," I call after them, getting on my bike. Jasper honks his horn as they drive off. I'm happy on the way home, glad to have spent some time with my friends and out of my house, which I've mostly confined myself to since February.

When I'm pulling into my driveway, I see a familiar silver car parked in front of Emmett's house and my heart sinks because Emmett's front door is swinging open and Edward is coming quickly down the steps his hands pulling through his hair, exasperated. He's in a dark tux and wearing a bowtie and I didn't know it was possible for him to look any more attractive than he usually does.

I'm so distracted by this feeling of lust running through me that I forget that I'm still straddling my bike, staring at him. He looks up, his eyes finding mine and it's almost as if he's not surprised to see me there. We just look at each other, I'm unable to form words and it feels as if the Earth has stopped rotating on its axis.

Edward takes a step towards me, but suddenly there's a shrill laugh coming from Emmett's stoop and we both turn in that direction. Jessica Stanley is coming towards him in a cloud of purple chiffon and tight curls. When she sees me, her smile turns into a nasty grimace but she curls her hand around the crook of Edward's elbow, her expression is screaming _mine_. Emmett and Rosalie follow, both looking beautiful as always. Rosalie is a vision in deep red and her eyes are suspicious under the iciness in her stare.

"Hey Bella! No prom tonight?" Emmett calls, his smile broad.

"No," I say uneasily. "Hope you have a good time."

Jessica pulls Edward to the car, his eyes still on me until she commands his attention, her bubbly voice too loud. I wave goodbye to Emmett and wheel my bike into the garage, feeling dizzy and sweaty.

* * *

Alice calls me the next day—she and Jasper finally did _it_ and there were lots of candles and flowers involved. She says it hurt a lot at first but she's sure it will get better each time it happens. Jasper's following her to New York in the fall but even if he wasn't, I think they'd make it, they're perfect together.

"So Edward and Jessica," I say in what I hope is a casual tone. Alice laughs.

"She's awful, he looked miserable all night." I try not to feel satisfied, but I do anyways.

"Why are you bringing that up?" she asks.

"I saw them, at Emmett's."

"Oh," is all she says. I know it's been killing her but Alice hasn't pressed me for many details about that weekend.

We leave it at that, though I feel this discomfort in our silence, like the calm before a storm.

* * *

The night before graduation, Alice is painting my toenails, like she always does. Emotion swells in me because we're not going to be down the street from each other much longer. She's been there for me though so much and maybe tomorrow's rite of passage is getting to me, but I feel so sentimental.

"Are you crying right now?" she asks and I wipe quickly at my cheeks, shaking my head. She narrows her eyes.

"I'm just going to miss you, okay? You're my best friend. You do so much for me and I don't deserve it," I cry and tears start gathering in her gray eyes, too.

"Bella, you totally deserve it, you deserve love and understanding, why do you think you don't? This is just what friends do, I love you!"

"Because I'm a mess all the time, I'm distant and sad and my own mother couldn't even love me how can I expect anyone else to?"

"So this is about Renee?"

"Of course it's about her! My whole life is somehow about her. I can't have a normal relationship with anyone except you because I'm afraid they're going to leave me and the art, the art isn't even mine! It's all hers, I can't look at it anymore because it feels wrong, it was all to understand her, to be closer to her but I want to never think about her again. I hate her, I think. And Edward, god, Edward is—was the best thing that ever happened to me and I fucking gave him up but that wasn't selfish was it? Wait, it was, I was afraid I was falling in love with him and he was going to leave because of course he was going to leave—no matter what happened, he was going to be gone in the fall and I didn't deserve him anyways, I never did because Edward is _light_, he is _everything_ and I have nothing to offer. I'm nothing."

I've never said this much to anyone, not even Alice and she's crying harder and wrapping her arms around me and we're in a heap on the floor of my bedroom, sobbing onto each other.

"I had no idea," she cries. "But Bella you've been without Renee for so long, you're not that girl anymore, you're not _her_ girl anymore. Maybe the art started with her but Bella, it's in your soul now, like, how can you just throw it away? And how on earth could you not think you deserved Edward? You're the most wonderful person I know, you've been through so much and you're still just the best, you're so strong and kind and god, he loved you Bella, he did and who doesn't deserve that? Your mom is the selfish one, it was all about her, you're right. So that means that you need to let go of this idea that you're the root of the problem. It wasn't you, you were only a kid and Charlie loves you so much. I love you so much."

I'm crying and crying and crying because she's speaking with such conviction and that it hurts, like I'm exhaling a lot of smoke and it's burning on the way out, like I'm letting these bad feelings leave me for the first time in so long.

"Oh god, I've been such an asshole," I groan after we calm down, my arm resting over my swollen eyes and Alice laughs, all nasally and congested.

"You really have, but I love you anyways."

"I still don't get why," I grumble and she scoffs. I hear her sit up and I move my arm, she's sitting right over me, her red eyes staring into mine.

"Because you're you. That's all that matters to me, that's all that matters at all. I'm not going to explain it again to you, Bella Swan."

"I miss my books, not to hide behind them but just the company, I guess."

"Then read your books—why are you complicating everything. You're over-thinking all of this, like you've convinced yourself that you've had these hidden motives behind everything you do and everything everyone else does. If you love art, you love art. That's it. There's no need to talk yourself out of what you love. That's self-destructive and annoying. "

"Tell me how you really feel," I joke but I feel the truth of what she's saying hit me like a train. "I talked myself out of Edward."

"Yeah that was stupid. I don't know why you did that. You were kind of awful to him."

"I know," I sigh, my breath is shaky. "I was scared. I didn't know how to let him in…I didn't want to lose him."

"But you lost him anyways," she says and I feel my chest caving in.

"I know that now. I blew it."

"Probably but it will be okay. Everything will be okay."

"I know," I say and though I'm unsure, I feel this hope in me now, that it will be okay, for the first time in my life.

* * *

When they call Edward's name at graduation, he walks across the stage set up in the middle of our football field happily. The sun is thankfully shining and it's making the red in his dark hair even more prominent under his blue graduation cap. I hear his parents cheer the loudest for him and I let my heart swell at the sight of him taking that diploma.

Alice said he loved me.

I never stuck around long enough to find out and regret hits me like a brick wall.

This whole starting over thing is turning me into an even bigger wreck than I ever was. But a good wreck. A hopeful wreck.

Because I watch him smile big and crooked and I remember a time when that was all for me.

When the ceremony ends, I find Mrs. Cope in the crowd of families and students, all hugging and taking pictures. She pulls me into a tight hug.

"Thank you," I tell her. "For everything. You've done so much for me and I could never thank you enough. I'm so sorry I've been such a jerk. You didn't deserve it." I pull up my gown and pull a stapled packet of paper out of the waistband of my skirt. After Alice had left last night, well after two a.m. and there was no way I could sleep, so I started on that thousand words she'd assigned me so long ago. Mrs. Cope reads it on the spot, all my words about the connection you can make to art, how it can do so much for the viewer, how it can be everyone's but also how it can be just yours. It can be anything; it can do anything for anyone. I've written that it's been my way to grow, to work past the issues with my mom and how it's become a deep part of me, how it's going to open so many doors for me, how it already has.

I couldn't help but thinking of Edward when I'd typed that because if it wasn't for Renoir or Manet or Paint by Numbers would I have even known him at all?

And once Mrs. Cope is done reading and tells me how proud she is and to call her if I ever need anything at all.

"You're going to do so many great things, Bella. Just don't give up on yourself."

"I won't. Thank you," I tell her and she hugs me again. I go off in search of Charlie and he hugs me too, telling me how proud he is and I've never seen him get choked up before, but it's happening now. I laugh at him and he shushes me. I look around, seeing my peers hugging and laughing and crying but then the crowd parts and there's Edward Cullen, talking to his parents and an elderly couple animatedly, gesturing wildly with those hands.

"I'm going to go get the car," Charlie says and I nod, distracted by the boy across the field, light practically radiating off of him, and oh god I miss him.

"You regret it, don't you?" Rosalie is next to me, her arms crossed and her eyes on Edward.

"Yes," I whisper.

"Good." I look at her, but she doesn't shift her gaze. "Are you going over there?"

"Maybe."

"He's leaving tomorrow, some program at school. Hurry up." She's gone as quickly as she'd come and I contemplate what she's said. Edward runs a hand through his hair and he catches me staring at him, like that day last summer at the Spartan, he presses his lips together and turns away, he looks shaken. That's when I know I can't go over there, I can't bother him anymore, I can't keep doing this to him.

He's about to leave, he's going to start his own new chapter and he doesn't need me hurting him anymore. It takes everything in me to walk to my dad's car, to leave him there for good.

Later on, Charlie tells me that we're going out to dinner with Alice's family to celebrate but that's not for a few hours. I'm in my room, staring at the envelope on my desk.

I wrote more than just my paper last night—I'd written a letter to Renee, telling her how much she's hurt me and to please leave me alone. I'd said that maybe someday that might change but for now, I need to focus on my own life, my new start.

I take the envelope and get on my bike, riding to the post office downtown. I want to get it out of here, I want it to get as far from me as possible. The sun is shining on me and I feel tears on my cheeks but they aren't sad, they just are. I drop it in the mailbox and there is this relief in me, there's air in my lungs again.

There is letting go.

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**that was a little better...right?**

**next chapter should be up within the next few days xx**


	14. Chapter 14

**hiiii sorry i'm back so soon.**

**music: towers by bon iver**

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**PART TWO**

**Chapter 14**

My roommate, Angela, is a tall, tanned girl from a small town in Ohio. She's an English major so between the two of us, half of our dorm room is just piles and piles of books.

Which is why we're trying to lug a shelving unit we got from IKEA up three flights of stairs to our room right now, my arms already feel like noodles.

"Ang, I think this is the worst idea we've ever had," I groan as we try to angle the box around a corner. We're almost to the third floor, almost done.

"At least you're not walking backwards," she grumbles back as the door to our floor opens. I look up and see that Peter is grinning down us.

"Can I help?" he asks, his Irish accent is subtle, but I know it's there. Peter lives two doors down from us and often joins us for dinner at one of the dining halls or for a movie night. His roommate is Angela's boyfriend, Ben, so they're both always around.

Angela says that Peter likes me but I always scoff at her and then change the subject. Peter's nice, sweet even, and his accent is attractive as hell. He's got short, dark hair and a pale complexion and is covered in freckles. It looks good on him, he oozes confidence and kindness so that doesn't hurt either.

I don't like him like that, though.

He may be all those things but it's just…not the same.

It's been five months since I've seen Edward Cullen and it's not this sharp pain anymore, it's more of a dull ache in my chest that never quite leaves. I don't know if it'll ever go away.

But now, Peter is helping us maneuver the box of unassembled shelves around the corner and easily up the last of the stairs. It takes us half the time it would have if it had been just me and Angela.

"Do you need help putting it together?" he asks and I'm about to tell him no but Angela beats me to it.

"That would be great!" she says brightly and I shoot her a look. She's been trying to play matchmaker for months and it's irritating at best.

So Peter sits in the room, chatting us up for the next twenty minutes as I read out instructions when all of a sudden Angela remembers that she "has a meeting" and practically runs from the room. I want to punch her but Peter looks more than pleased.

"How many times did you go to the museum today, Bella?" he teases, his eyes trained on his work.

"Ha ha very funny, I don't go that much," I say. I mean, I probably go to the Art Institute once a week, but that's not excessive. I just really want to get a feel for the works. It's amazing to be able to actually spend time among the paintings and drawings and sculptures I've studied so much about. Peter and Angela like to make fun of me though because it's a long trip on the bus.

"How's your stats class going?" I ask, wanting to change the subject. Peter groans.

"It's horrific, I have no idea what I'm doing. You sure you can't tutor me?"

"Only if you want to fail," I tell him, ignoring the underlying meaning of his words. He laughs lightly and shakes his head. I've never seen him in a bad mood, he's been nothing but friendly and nice to me since we met at orientation.

He's perfectly agreeable and cute, and it's not that I'm afraid I'll get hurt if I get close to him—I'd been working through that issue with a counselor all summer, which my dad made me do once he found out that I went to see Renee—but I guess I'm afraid of hurting _him_. Because I know that I'll never feel _that_ way for him.

I don't think anyone else can sense or understand my hesitation over these things, except for Alice but she's in New York and incredibly busy with classes and Jasper. We talk at least once a week but still, it isn't enough. I'm counting down the days until winter break but it's only October.

When Peter is done putting the shelf together he helps me stack all of the books littered around the room onto the new, white shelves.

"I can actually see the floor in here now," he laughs and I roll my eyes at him, but I'm smiling.

"Thank you for all of your help," I tell him. "I couldn't have done this myself, I owe you one."

"You can always come out to dinner with me, maybe a movie," he says casually and I freeze, sure that my face is bright red.

"Oh, Peter, I don't…" I can't finish my sentence because I have no idea what to say, my heart is beating too hard but it's not that feeling I'd gotten when I was with Edward, that giddy nervousness. Right now I felt like I was going to be sick.

"I like you," he says simply and I look at the floor. "Just give me a chance."

"I can't make any promises," I say and he shrugs.

"I'm not asking you to."

So I agree to go out with him. Our first date is two days later, he takes me to a burger place and then we see a movie, just like he'd said and he didn't try to kiss me when it was over, and I was grateful for that. We date casually for the next month and I let him steal kisses from me and hold my hand and I smile at all the right moments.

But he knows something is off, that I'm not entirely all there for it. So on a snowy night in late November, we break up—if you can even call it that. I can tell he's upset but he's nice about it. We still hang out with Ben and Angela but there's this weirdness in the air.

When I tell Alice, I can hear the disappointment in her voice over the phone. Angela is trying to sleep so I'm sitting in the stairwell, whispering into my phone hoping no one can hear me.

"It just didn't feel right," I say softly.

"I mean, it's not like you can help that," she says. "What didn't feel right?"

"I don't know, he's so sweet and it's not like I'm not attracted to him, I just couldn't…he wasn't right."

"You mean he wasn't Edward." My heart breaks at the sound of his name. I haven't heard his name aloud in so long.

"Will this ever go away?" I say, my voice cracking.

"Oh, sweetie," she says soothingly and I let her calm me down like she always does, though the fact that I'm still wearing his sweatshirt cancels everything she says out.

* * *

Chicago gets more snow than Forks, I realize as I'm pushing through two feet of it trying to get to the bus stop. They haven't shoveled the dorms walkway yet, they usually salt it for days before a big snow but this latest storm kind of hit us by surprise because it's only the beginning of December.

I'm on my way to the Sullivan Galleries, which belong to the School of the Art Institute of Chicago. The professor in my contemporary art history class mentioned that the students there are putting on a big juried show, so he says that it could really show us some new and possibly big upcoming names in the contemporary art world, right in our city. He told us that if we go, we should write a short review of the exhibit and he'll give us some credit for it. I have an A in the class but I'm interested in the shows anyways.

So I'm bundled up, wearing some thick leggings tucked into my tall boots and one of my dad's old wool sweaters under my navy peacoat. There aren't that many people at the bus stop even though it's Saturday, but I guess the weather is keeping people away. To get to the gallery, I have to take a bus to an L station so the process is long and drawn out, should take nearly an hour but with the weather so bad, it takes almost twice as long.

By the time I'm finally downtown and at the building, it blows me away. I mean, it's not a spectacular building by any means but this whole city just astounds me. I'm so used to the low, run down houses and business of my small town that these towering structures are just awe-inspiring. The galleries themselves are on the seventh floor of the building.

I check my coat at the entrance and grab a pamphlet but I don't look at it yet. My method when I get to a new gallery or museum is to just walk around and look at the works, no preconceived ideas about them—just seeing them as they are. The space is big, wide open with lots of windows so I can see the city around me. The art itself is set up on panels throughout the space, pedestals scattered for sculpture. There's a pretty big crowd, lots of students but still many older people are here too.

I'm amazed at the diversity of the works, I'm especially drawn in by a photography series of this woman dressed up in this long, gauzy dress with her hair is covered in flowers as she's grocery shopping. The colors are so bright and I can't help my smile.

I love walking through galleries alone, there's just something so calming about it, and I feel like this mysterious enigma, drifting through these beautiful frames and statues silently.

This is how I've been spending my time in Chicago, going from gallery to gallery when I need time to just _be_. I've made friends, not only in Angela but I get the occasional cup of coffee with some people in my major and I've learned to be more open with my feelings, to be more open with people in general. It hasn't blown up in my face so far. But they aren't deep relationships, there's this intimacy missing and I'm not sure if I'll ever find it again.

I go to the galleries and museums when that feeling gets to be too much, I go among the artists and their works to feel a little more at home and a little more understood.

There's a loud laugh that comes from next to me that snaps me out of my current state—it makes me jump and I look around. People are talking and smiling everywhere, contemplating the works, talking to the student artists who are all hovering near their pieces.

I round a corner, right around a pillar and I come to a large back wall, covered in frames of all sizes, of all materials and colors. They're staggered in this big mass on the left side of the wall and I move closer to the images, because from a distance I can only see defined black lines and watercolors lightly brushed over the paper so that they create this vast sweeping depth that makes my breath catch. I see a residential street, maybe here in town, I'm not sure—the ink of the outlines so dark and sure, while the light grays and tans and blues of the paint add life. It's so subtle but so stunning. I keep looking—there's evergreen trees, a beach, a group of people looking bored and then—

I gasp.

Because it's me.

I see the dark brown of my hair, the almost black color of my eyes. My cheeks and lips are pink, flushed and though I can't see much of me because of how it's cropped, I can see that I'm wearing a sweatshirt.

_His_ sweatshirt.

There's more of me on the wall—one of me in the snow, one of me eating a slice of pizza, one of just my eyes but I can tell they're red and puffy from crying.

I'm in vivid color, in clean, sure lines.

I can't breathe, I take a step back and that's when I see him.

Edward.

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**weeeeeeeeeeee thank you for sticking with me you're all the best in the world.**

**next chapter will be up by monday if all goes well this weekend  
**

**i love hearing your thoughts! drop me a review? x**


	15. Chapter 15

**Sorry this is on the shorter side, it just kind of naturally came to an end and I didn't want to push it. Thank you for reading and taking the time to review, it means so much. **

**music: mercury by sleeping at last**

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**Chapter 15**

This strangled sob escapes from my throat before I can stop it, my hand flies to my mouth in surprise because it's Edward and he's _here. _ His hair is longer, he's wearing those goddamn black jeans and a nice button down shirt and a black tie, his hands are shoved in his pockets and his eyes are on me, so green and bright.

I'm crying now, not loudly but enough that I feel my body shake as I try to hold it in.

Edward is here.

My brain can't process it, I feel like I'm going to wake up at any moment, like this isn't really happening.

But Edward is walking towards me and soon, his warm arm is around me, pulling me out the front door and around a corner, down a dim, empty hallway. I just stare at him and his wild expression, I can't form any words and I can't slow my breathing down.

"Do you need water or something?" he asks and the rasp of his voice hits me like a kick in the stomach. It's all I can do to shake my head.

He presses his back to the wall next to me and slides down slowly, stretching his legs out in front of him, exhaling deeply as he sits. I follow his lead and soon we're both on the floor, not touching but if I scoot over just a little bit, we would be.

We're silent, except for my ragged breathing as I try to calm myself down, I'm so mortified at my reaction and I think this is the only time I've ever seen Edward's face so expressionless. It's so strange, I long for his smile, his easy laugh.

_Say words, Bella_, I'm screaming at myself internally, my mind scattered and unable to find anything worthwhile to say. Finally my mouth gets the memo and takes over.

"W-what are you doing here?" I hardly have a voice, I sound so small and I feel no different. Edward sighs deeply.

"I go to school here," he says flatly and it's almost as if it's not him speaking at all. Edward doesn't say anything without the passion and joy of a thousand suns.

"Why didn't you ever…?" I can't finish my question, but he knows what I mean, like he used to.

"I was going to surprise you at graduation but never got the chance." I feel my eyes burn with fresh tears. All those months of keeping me in the dark, I'm so stupid for not just figuring it out. We would've been in the same city. We could've stayed together.

"I'm sorry," I say, and I know it's completely stupid and could never convey all I need it to. "For everything. I was awful."

"You were."

"I just, I was so scared I was going to lose you, I didn't deserve you, I couldn't deal with anymore loss."

"Well I hope that all worked out for you, Bella," he says and my heart shatters at the sound of my name on his lips, even if his tone is ice.

"It didn't, I was stupid. I know that now, I'm sorry." He still won't look at me, but he slowly starts to stand and suddenly he's walking away.

"Where are you going?" I call out, not bothering to mask the desperation in my voice as I scramble to get up. He freezes and doesn't turn around right away. When he does though, his eyes are wild and I feel like I'm about to be hit by an oncoming storm.

"Back to my show," he says evenly.

"You painted me," I tell him quietly, I'm not sure if he can hear me. He closes his eyes, exhaling deeply.

"Why?" I ask, trying to be clearer, more confident as I take steps towards him. I need to know if this is over for him, like it never was for me. His eyes fly open and we're close now. If I reached out, I'd be touching him.

"Because I can't paint anything else, you won't leave my fucking head," he cries and he rips a hand through his hair.

"I'm sorry," I repeat and he lets out a short laugh.

"You're sorry? God, Bella, you were _everything_ to me and you just dropped me like I was absolutely _nothing_ to you. I would have done _anything_ for you," he's practically screaming and I'm surprised no one has run outside to quiet us yet and he's in my face, and the anger and hurt is there bubbling to the surface and it's all too much for me but it's still not enough for me, my blood is boiling and my face is red as I look him right in the eye.

"I never asked you to fucking fall in love with me!" My voice is rough and far too loud.

"Well I did anyways," he roars back and his chest is heaving and I'm so hot in my sweater but it's like a magnet is pulling us together because next thing I know I'm wrapped around him and his hand is tugging on my hair too hard and my lips find his too roughly. My legs are wrapped around his waist and his free hand is holding onto my thigh, his fingers digging into the skin there through my leggings. Our kiss is desperate and rough, his stubble scratching uncomfortably against my cheek and I bite his lip a little too hard. He makes a noise from the back of his throat and I tangle my fingers in his hair, it's softer than I remember and when we break apart, Edward detangles himself from me and takes two steps back, staggering and swiping a hand over his face. I can't catch my breath and he looks like he's being torn apart from the inside.

"Edward," I breathe and his eyes find mine again and they are wrecked. "I can't get you out of my head either. I know I've made mistakes but I'm trying. I swear I'm trying to do better. I never thought I'd see you again, and you're here and that means something to me. Just…did I lose you, for good?"

He takes another step back.

"Don't go, please," I whisper and his eyes squeeze shut.

"I need to," he says and I'm moving closer to him again.

"Don't."

"Bella," he says softly, painfully.

"I love you," I say and I'm struck with the truth of it, I feel it deep in my being that I love him.

Edward tugs at his mess of hair.

"I love you," I say louder, more confidently. "I fucked up before, I know that. My mom screwed me up but that's not an excuse. I know I said I didn't deserve you, but I want to try to. Edward, you're just…you're everything. I don't know what to say to fix this, I know I probably never can but I don't know if I can ever stop wanting to. You're all I think about, my bones ache for you, Edward. I'll leave you alone if that's what you want but I…I don't want to."

"You broke my fucking heart, I waited for months for you to come around and you never did."

"I didn't want to hurt you anymore," I cry because I can't take the look of betrayal on his beautiful face.

"_I_ wasn't afraid of getting hurt," he throws back at me and then he finally walks away, back into the gallery and I just stand for a few moments, trying to stay upright and trying not to cry. I don't know how, but I get myself into the elevator and out the front door, but I'm already half way to the L station when I realize I've left my coat at the gallery and it's freezing out but I can't turn around, I just keep trudging to the station, my arms wrapped tight around myself.

I'm not surprised by his reaction; I deserved every word he said.

I just wasn't sure it was going to hurt this much—after already not having him for so long I thought I'd be used to it. But this was like a fresh wound, the knife stabbing and twisting and twisting.

When I finally get on the L, I find a seat in the back of the car, trying to distance myself from the creepy guy with the moustache by the doors and the loud group of twenty-somethings up front. As they laugh, obviously drunk, I lean over my knees, wrapping my arms under my legs and holding myself there, my face hidden and I let myself break apart for Edward Cullen one more time.

Until I feel something drape over my back and I shoot up, remembering the man by the doors but it's not him—it's Edward, his coat around my shoulders while he sits next to me, drumming his fingers on his legs.

I take a deep breath, but I don't break the silence that's overcome us. I let myself look at him, his tired eyes and swollen lips and I let myself _be_ in this moment with him, not thinking of when it will end or why it began because _right now_ might be all I ever have.

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**we're reaching the end here folks, just a couple more chapters left i think. again, sorry this was so short. i'm hoping to get the next chapter up in a few days, friday at the latest. review? xoxo  
**


	16. Chapter 16

**here it is, thank you for reading and reviewing!**

**music: like real people do by hozier**

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**Chapter 16**

We ride the L in silence and when it gets to my stop, Edward follows me out. As we're walking to the bus stop, I try to give him his coat back but he won't take it, so I wrap myself in it like it's a cocoon, letting the warmth of the worn material and the smell of his laundry detergent suffocate me.

"We have to take a bus the rest of the way," I tell him softly and he shrugs, but I know he's probably freezing in his thin shirt. I feel terrible about it, so I remove the coat and I shove it at him.

"Please just take it, I'll be fine," I plead with him.

"No, you keep it," he mutters and I roll my eyes.

"I'm not going to wear it," I say, jutting my chin out at him defiantly. His expression grows annoyed.

"I'm not either."

"Fine."

"Fine."

So I hold the coat in front of me, neither of us wearing it and both of us freezing as it starts to snow in fat, wet flakes. We're staring at each other, but I'm blinking miserably as the snow hits my face and the bare skin on my neck. If I didn't know any better, I could swear that Edward looks almost amused with me.

Thankfully the bus comes relatively quickly and we're sitting down in no time, trying to get the feeling back into our hands, each of us secretly praising god for the heating of the public transit system. Like our ride on the L, we don't say a word to each other until we get back Evanston and the stop closest to my dorm. Edward trails behind me as we walk to my dorm, and my panic is growing with every step.

I don't know why he came after me, or what's going to happen next, his silence is so ominous to me—I can never remember a time where he was this quiet with me. It's very likely he followed me so he can really yell at me without a potential audience. But a small part of me hopes that maybe he'll try to forgive me, that maybe I can fix this.

A very, very small part of me.

I pull my keys out of the side of my boots and let us into the dorm, stomping snow off of my shoes as I go. We walk up to the third floor, out shoes squeaking on the stairs, the noise echoing through the empty stairwell.

As we near my door, I hope beyond all hope that Angela is staying with Ben tonight so I don't have to explain this situation to her. I also hope I don't have any dirty laundry scattered on the floor.

I try the handle and the door is locked, which either means the room is empty or we're about to walk in on something I never want to see again (it's only happened once but I couldn't look Ben in the eye for at least a week).

Thankfully, it's dark when we finally get inside and I flip the light on to find no one there and my laundry all in its hamper.

Edward is hovering in the doorway, looking around the room curiously. My side is very different from Angela's, her walls mostly bare except for some to-do lists taped above her desk and a bulletin board covered with photographs and ticket stubs. My side, however, has museum brochures and postcard-sized prints of paintings and photographs in giant masses by my bed. I've strung up some small, dim lanterns to read by for when Angela goes to bed way earlier than I do and a couple of photos of me and Alice on my desk. Our bookshelf is impossibly full, we've had to stack the books vertically to fit more on.

"You can sit down," I say, gesturing towards my bed and I see him swallow hard. I walk over to my closet, desperate to warm up. I peel my boots off and dig for my wool socks. When I find them, I turn to sit at my desk chair and I see Edward standing by my bed, holding a sweatshirt. _His _sweatshirt.

He looks at me, really looks at me, for what feels like the first time all night. I feel like he's waiting for an explanation.

"I sleep in it every night. I don't know, it makes me feel…safer? I don't know," I mumble, feeling stupid.

"Did you mean it?" he asks quietly.

"Mean what?"

"That you love me?" his eyes are shining, his brows pulled together.

"I didn't lie to you, Edward," I tell him. His hands clutch the sweatshirt tighter. "Why did you come after me?"

"I guess after all this time…I just wanted to know for sure. I needed an answer. For so long I wasn't sure if you dumped me because you really believed all the stuff you said or if it was just part of the aftermath of the trip to Vancouver. I didn't know if I should've tried more to get you back."

"You shouldn't have needed to do that. I didn't want to break up with you; I just didn't know what else to do. I know that doesn't really make any sense but it was…it was just, what happened, I guess."

"You were going through a tough time, I just bailed," he says, his voice thick. I finally gather the courage to walk over to him, I place my hand tentatively on his forearm, his eyes move to where we're in contact and they stay there for a very long time.

"This wasn't your fault, Edward. I wouldn't have let you in. I needed to work through a lot. I'm getting there, though. I'm really trying to…uncomplicate my life."

"I guess things were more complicated than I thought," he says, finally letting himself look at me again and there is so much sadness in his eyes.

"It shouldn't have been. Me and you, we were never…it was never like that with us. We were just _us_ and that was it."

Edward turns and pulls me to him, his arms wrapping tightly around my waist and burying his face in my hair. I cling to him, inhaling deeply and feeling so, so warm in this embrace.

"I still…things haven't changed for me," he mumbles, his lips pressing to the top of my head before he bends down to find my lips with his own. It's a soft, sweet kiss. Nothing like the one at the gallery, he's tender in his movements, his hand cupping my cheek softly and my fingers lacing together behind his neck.

"I missed you," I say once we break apart and he responds with another kiss, though this one is more urgent than the last and all of a sudden we're on my bed, clinging to each other and tears are happening again and we aren't even kissing anymore, just holding on as tightly as we can and I'm not going to let go. I feel like these broken pieces of me are slowly pulling back together every time his warm hands touch my skin.

We fall back into a silence, but it's comfortable, almost as if we're each just trying to catch our breath after months of not being able to get a grip on anything. We're wrapped in my quilt and I'm trying to use my feet to take my socks off but I'm struggling. Edward laughs softly and I feel his feet do the job for me, I grin up at him, burrowing deeper under the covers and his arms are holding me close.

It's nice, this lightness that's come over us after so long under this heavy darkness of missing each other. I don't feel anything but Edward near me and I know this is far from perfect, we still have a lot we probably need to work through but for right now, I'm listening to Edward's even breathing and I am content, finally able to fall asleep.

* * *

"Oh, this is awkward." I hear someone say and I shoot up, disoriented. Angela is in the doorway, her arms crossed, still in her pajamas but her smile is amused.

"It's not what it looks like," I say and Edward doesn't even stir beside me, he's out cold, snoring softly. Angela rolls her eyes and reaches for her shower tote.

"I'm gonna go shower and then I'll just go back to Ben's. Text me when I can come back. He's cute, by the way." I gape at her as she goes and my face is surely burning red but I can't feel embarrassed for too long because I settle back into Edward's side, checking the watch on his wrist. It's after ten in the morning and my stomach is growling. But I try to ignore it because I want to stare at him a little longer, how peaceful he looks and how his hair is sticking up in all directions.

"Why are you staring at me," he mumbles, not opening his eyes. I laugh.

"Because you're just _so _cute," I say and he smiles, burying his face into the pillow.

"Do you want to get breakfast?" I ask. "There's this really good place around the corner."

He doesn't respond and I'm almost certain he's falling back asleep so I poke at his side until he finally sits up, laughing and trying to swat my hands away.

We finally manage to get out of bed, and make ourselves look decent enough to go out in public and as we're leaving, I shoot Ang a text before his hand finds mine, squeezing it tightly.

"I love you," he says, lacing our fingers together and he kisses me, his eyes bright and his smile crooked, just like it used to be.

There is so much hope in me and I can see it in him too, that even though we might never get back to where we were, we've grown, we're not the same and maybe that's not terrible.

So we get pancakes and catch up, finding each other again at last.

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**just one more chapter left of this thang. review if you feel like it bc they make me so happy. **

**next chapter should hopefully be up tomorrow or by sunday at the absolute latest.**

**thank you for reading xx**


	17. Chapter 17

**so sorry this is going up late-this weekend was way busier than I thought it would be. Anyways, this is it. The last chapter/epilogue, whatever you want to call it. **

**music: shake by the head and the heart**

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**Epilogue**

"Are you sure this is the right place?"

"Yes, Bella, they said Third and Tenth," Edward says, irritated as I'm craning my neck to look over the other people in the coffee shop. I look back at him sheepishly as he hands me my mug, all steamy and dark.

"Thank you," I say, grinning at him and he rolls his eyes but he's smiling crookedly behind his own cup.

"They _are_ more than ten minutes late," I say after a moment and he laughs, shaking his head.

"They're running on Jasper time, Bell. Has Jasper ever been on time for anything?"

"I guess not," I sigh. I'm anxious because I haven't seen Alice since January. Edward and I managed to save up enough money to fly out to New York for our spring break, working extra time over the last few months. After winter break I got a job at one of the galleries closer to downtown in Chicago, just there to answer questions about whatever's being exhibited—it's been a lot of fun, I'm so lucky to have gotten the job. Edward on the other hand has been busing tables at this upscale restaurant closer to his side of town and he absolutely hates it, but it pays well and he gets half off the price of his bill so we eat there whenever we feel like being fancy and grown up. Plus I like it when he wears a tie.

We've been together for almost five months and though I can't say it's been easy, it's been the best five months of my life. At breakfast the morning we woke up together, we really just laid it all on the table. He told me everything he'd been up to during that time apart (drawing mostly and trying not to stare at me during lunch), he mentioned casually dating someone over the summer but his heart just wasn't in it. I told him about Peter and we both stewed in jealousy for about five minutes until I felt his leg tangle with mine under the table. In that gesture I felt that hope again and I could see it in those forest eyes that he did, too.

So we made extra effort to see each other between classes and work, sometimes he'd stay at my dorm and sometimes I'd stay at his because we couldn't stand to be apart for too long. Angela always jokes that we'll get past that "honeymoon stage" soon but I'm not so sure. Even now, watching him drink his coffee, I get this rush of warmth within me, just so _content_ that he is here and we are together.

But there are days when I feel myself falling into this fear of him leaving, of me not being enough or being too much for him and I want to lock myself in my room and wrap myself in blankets and drown in a book until it passes.

I don't do that, though—I've been trying more to let those feelings _be_ and Edward is nothing but supportive and understanding, but he doesn't let me stay in those funks. He makes me go to class, takes me out to dinner, and dials Alice's number when I need her to snap me out of it.

We are both trying to be better versions of ourselves, trying to be worthy of this second chance we've been given.

I feel better now, so excited to be in this new place with him. We've only been here for a couple of hours but it's already so amazing. Alice and Jasper are supposed to be meeting us here so we can spend the afternoon at the Museum of Modern Art.

"They're twenty minutes late," I say. "I'm calling her."

"Don't think that's necessary, turn around," he says with a smirk and once I do, I practically jump out of my chair because Alice is there with her arms wide open. We're hugging and squealing and doing all of those embarrassing reunited-at-last things as Jasper and Edward shake their heads at us, doing that quick one armed hug thing that guys do.

"I've missed you so much!" she cries as we're all walking out of the shop and into the tentative warmth of early spring. We're all talking about school and life and it makes me so happy that I can go months without seeing my best friend and we can pick up right where we left off.

We have to take a subway to get there, which is fine—I sort of love public transportation, it makes me feel mysterious and anonymous. Edward laughed at me when I told him that but he drew me a picture of myself, dressed in a trench coat and an indifferent stare riding the L. It's my favorite one he's done of me and I have it hanging up by my bed.

We ride the subway, all of us probably laughing too loudly as Edward explains how lost we got on the way to our hotel earlier in the day because he misread the subway map. Alice gushes about what she has planned for us throughout the week—she even got us all tickets to a show at Bowery Ballroom for some band Edward's obsessed with. He almost cries (he denies it), which I tease him about for the rest of the ride.

The museum itself is huge—six floors of exhibits and I feel like I'm going to pass out in excitement as we make our way to the first gallery. Edward falls into step next to me, his hand finding mine as we look at the works. He makes his comments, like always, on the composition or a part of it he particularly likes or dislikes and I nod, but I stay quiet, just taking it in for what it is and how it makes me feel.

He presses a kiss to my temple and lets go of my hand, pulling his sketchbook and a pen out of his backpack, settling in on a bench and starting to draw. He doesn't draw the works themselves, he likes to capture people looking at them. It's his new series and I'm in it far too much.

I pull my camera out of my purse—it's something I've been trying the last few months. Edward got it for me for Christmas, it's an old Pentax that only takes film and he spent the month of January helping me figure out how to use the darkroom at school so I could develop my own pictures. I love it—I never had the talent for painting or drawing or sculpting, but taking photos is something I can do—I can capture the scenes I want to at last.

I want to take a picture of Edward working, so I'm trying to be sneaky about it, peeking through the viewfinder at him.

He's got his long legs stretched out in front of him, he's hunched over his sketchbook, looking at the old woman stopped in front of the big text work made out of neon lights. His hair is falling over his eyes, which are shining even though he's squinting in concentration. He bites his lip as he draws a thick, sure line and I feel this wave crash over me, like I'm unbelievably overwhelmed by how beautiful this boy is, inside and out.

I take the picture, getting that moment and he hears the film advance, looking up at me with a big crooked grin on his face, shaking his head and going back to work. I can't stop my own smile, I don't want to—I want him to know how wonderful I think he is, how happy he makes me—always. I don't need to hide anymore, I don't need to worry and second guess and make this thing with him complicated, because it isn't. It never was and never will be.

"Are you as in love with him as I think you are?" Alice sighs happily from beside me.

"Yes, I am," I say, simple as that.

**end.**

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**thank you SO much for reading and sticking with it until the end. seriously, from the bottom of my heart _thank you_. i hope i didn't let you down with the ending-feel free to drop me a review to let me know if i did. or drop one anyways bc i love hearing your thoughts. **

**i am working on something new, it's more lighthearted and I'm very excited about it so look for that in the next few weeks if you're interested. **

**thank you thank you thank you,**

**meg**


	18. AN

Hello best readers in the world!

Posting to let you know this story has been nominated for TWO separate awards and I'm blown away and so incredibly honored.

The links are in my profile if you feel like voting.

Love you all, come stop by at _you are here_ and say hi.

xoxo,

meg


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